


Of Wine and Women

by hummingbirdswords



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-10-31 17:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 58,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10903746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingbirdswords/pseuds/hummingbirdswords
Summary: When their family sends them away to Wine Country for Mother's Day, finding the line between friendship and romance becomes difficult. A week with Regina in a private lodge has the power to bring what has been just beneath the surface into the light, but what does that mean for their friendship?basically: bed sharing, being mistaken for a couple, and all that non-sexual intimacy I love filling my fics with





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Do I have other things I should be focusing on? Yes. Does my brain care? No. 
> 
> I wanted to wait until this was finished before starting to post, but the fic decided that it needed to be much longer than I was anticipating. Since I just started writing it two days ago, there was no way I could actually have it finished by today like I wanted. 
> 
> It's been about six months of struggling with words and inspiration, so when this idea came to me and the words actually worked, I got super excited. So... I'm still working on this.
> 
> As always, gotta thank the lovely Kez for being super supportive and encouraging. This would have probably just been another vague idea I thought of and never put into words if it wasn't for her.

Emma’s running late for Mother’s Day brunch. But it’s not really her fault when her mother decided to have brunch a day early, meaning she technically shouldn’t be considered late because it’s not even Mother’s Day yet. It’s Saturday. And Saturday mornings are for sleeping in and watching cartoons while eating Cocoa Puffs in her pajamas, _not_ rushing out of the house to drink mimosas at Granny’s. She didn’t even know Granny’s had mimosas.

 

She’s not even certain she’s fully awake as she hops up and down in her bedroom to get her jeans on with a toothbrush dangling from her mouth. It feels like it’s too early to be functioning, to be putting on clothes with buttons and having to talk to people. And she’s probably right, which is why she trips over one of her boots and flops down on the bed, groaning miserably as her curled hair gets stuck to her wet mouth and her body gives up on her. This wouldn’t happen if she was still sleeping.

 

“Today is not my day,” Emma grumbles as she takes her toothbrush from her mouth and wipes the toothpaste and spit that’s now on her cheek with the back of her hand. She grimaces as she looks down at the white foam and then, glancing at her bedspread, wipes her hand clean on the bedding. She considers it motivation to strip her bed down and do laundry when she gets home later.

 

Releasing a tired breath into her quiet bedroom, she looks up at the ceiling and wonders what would happen if she called her mother back and made up an excuse for why she couldn’t make it. It’s not like they have big plans or anything. It’s just the two of them, Regina, and Zelena meeting for a brunch date Emma had never actually agreed to, and it isn’t like she doesn’t have dinner with all of them several times a week already. They probably wouldn’t even miss her if she didn’t show up.

 

She frowns. She doesn’t feel like going, but the thought of them not even caring if she does hurts more than she wishes it would. And it’s probably ridiculous, because she _knows_ they all care about her, but suddenly she can’t stop thinking about how much fun they would still have without her there. It seems like Regina and Snow have a closer relationship than either of them have with her sometimes, leaving Emma to be jealous of both of them in ways that rarely make sense to her. And Zelena, well, she was never top of Emma’s buddy list anyway. They’ve grown to genuinely care for one another over time, but she knows Zelena will have a blast as long as she has her sister by her side, Emma’s presence having no impact on that.

 

Interrupting Emma’s moody thoughts and making her sit bolt upright is the sound of the ringing doorbell, an odd buzzing noise that she’s still not used to hearing despite how long it’s been since she moved into her apartment. It buzzes once, silence follows, and then the person on the other side of the door leans against the bell just long enough for the annoying sound to create a shrill noise that makes her wanna bury her head under her pillows and never come up again. However, knowing there really isn’t anybody in Storybrooke who would take the lack of a response as a hint instead of a challenge, she decides to get up and answer her door before the ringing continues. On top of everything, she doesn’t want to have to deal with a headache as well.

 

She gets all the way to the door before she remembers she’s only wearing a bra with her unbuttoned jeans, but one look out the peephole stops her from really caring. It’s only Regina, Regina who has seen her in less on several occasions and only ever gives her a slight raise of her eyebrow like maybe she’s questioning why Emma thinks opening the door half-dressed is appropriate. If people want to show up unannounced, then it’s really their own fault if they stop by when she’s not fully dressed inside her own place. And yet, Regina has made a habit of coming over without calling or warning Emma beforehand. Emma doesn’t really mind the unannounced visits or being undressed around Regina, so she doesn’t complain about it. It’s just something that happens, one of those things that doesn’t really mean anything important so she doesn’t need to overthink it.

 

Emma unlocks the door and opens it for Regina, squinting her eyes when the unnaturally bright hallway light spills inside. She’s not sure, but she thinks today’s eyebrow lift comes with a small smirk as Regina walks in and gives Emma a quick lookover. Emma shuts the door and reaches down to the button on her tight jeans, finally buttoning them and making up her mind about the brunch she doesn’t want to go to but knows she needs to attend anyway. She’ll just nap later—after laundry is done, she remembers with a mental groan.

 

“Why am I not surprised you’re not ready?” Regina asks as she shakes her head before walking farther inside and making her way to the sofa that is covered with yesterday’s clothes.

 

Emma watches Regina sit down and cross her legs, the brunette glancing around the apartment with a purposely blank expression. Emma folds her arms, refusing to be judged for not picking up after herself—even if that judgment is hidden and not vocalized. It’s been a busy week, and sometimes she lets her mess pile up, but she had planned on cleaning after using the morning to relax. She’s not a slob, just not as on top of things as Regina is. But, really, who is ever as on top of things as Regina?

 

Regina somehow looks completely comfortable amongst Emma’s mess regardless of the fact that she’s the biggest neat freak Emma has ever met. Maybe she’s got a good poker face, or maybe she’s just so used to Emma’s stuff always being everywhere. Emma doesn’t know, and it doesn’t really make a difference. Still, Emma notices it. She also notices she’s been staring at Regina and now the other woman is giving her a peculiar look, like she’s trying to figure something out and the answer is somewhere in Emma’s eyes. It makes her shift on her feet and look away.  

 

“Ten o’clock is too early for brunch,” she says in response to Regina’s rhetorical question. “If I wanted to be up this early, I would work Saturdays instead of taking them off. This is one step away from all of you trying to torture me.”

 

Regina almost laughs, the corner of her mouth quirking just so. She unzips the leather jacket she’s wearing over a skintight oxblood dress that stops a few inches above her knees when she stands up from the sofa. It’s unfamiliar to Emma, but Regina’s wardrobe seems endless at times. It’s nice, though, much nicer than half the things Emma considered putting on when she rolled herself out of bed.

 

Regina nods her head toward Emma’s bedroom and walks toward the kitchen, fully removing the jacket and revealing the large peephole in the back of her dress as she starts speaking. “Get dressed and I’ll make you some hot chocolate. That should make you less agitated,” she tells her kindly. She’s already taking down a mug and doing that _thing_ where she kind of just takes over like she’s at her own house and not Emma’s.

 

Emma narrows her eyes, following Regina’s steps without actually leaving the living room. She can just see the back of the other woman from where she stands, only part of the kitchen visible from the door. “I’m not agitated,” she protests. “I’m just...” She trails off with a groan, letting her arms fall heavily from her chest when no word feels right to her.

 

This time Regina does laugh, or something close to a laugh. It’s short and quick, and then she’s poking her head out of the kitchen and smirking. “Agitated,” she says knowingly, the light catching in her eyes.

 

Emma rolls her own and decides not to argue. Somehow Regina’s always right in the end, anyway. And, besides, Emma _has_ been a little prickly lately. Things have been getting to her more than usual, things that aren’t even big issues. Brunch with her family is just one more thing on top of the big pile of little things that somehow make Emma feel like she _needs_ to groan and moan about something. She’s frustrated, and she really doesn’t have a good reason to be.

 

“Fine, whatever. I’m going to go find a shirt.”

 

“There we go,” Regina says, and Emma can almost hear her teasing smile. It makes Emma finally release the negativity that’s left inside her. “And do try to pick out one with buttons.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Anything else?”

 

Regina comes from the kitchen, one hand on her hip and the other on her chin. She looks at Emma like she’s a difficult puzzle to be solved, and knowing Regina, she’ll find a way to solve it. It’s a little unnerving. “Well, if you’re in the mood to please—”

 

“Nope, totally not,” Emma says, cutting her off and heading to her bedroom. She knows that tone of voice and knows better than to stay for whatever’s coming next. That’s the voice Regina uses when she wants to persuade Emma into doing something, and Emma’s completely aware of how often it actually works on her.

 

“I was only going to suggest you take off those jeans and put on something that’s not made of denim.”

 

“Nope,” Emma says again, entering her room. “You can have your buttons, but I am keeping on the jeans.”

 

“But if you—”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Stubborn,” Regina calls out from the kitchen, her voice light and airy. There’s definitely a smile there that Emma kinda wishes she could see. “Just hurry up, and make sure you get that toothpaste out of your hair and off your face. We’re going out into public.”

 

Emma’s cheeks inflame as she rushes over to the mirror to look at her reflection, and sure enough, there’s dried toothpaste on the side of her mouth and some more clearly visible in her hair. She licks her hand and scrubs her face, groaning. She is a mess, a certified mess, so of course the closest thing Emma’s ever known to perfection is the one who always witnesses these moments.

 

“I like the curls, by the way. I’ve missed them,” Regina tells her in a soft voice, and all the embarrassment is gone but the flush to her cheeks remains as she finishes getting ready.

 

It takes Emma five minutes to return, and when she does, there’s a large mug of hot chocolate with a mountain of whipped cream waiting for her. Regina’s in the living room, straightening out the few photographs Emma has on a shelf—mostly just Henry, one of the whole family, another with Henry and the two of them. Emma tucks in her shirt as she goes to the table that’s located in the dining area of the living room, taking quiet steps that don’t draw attention to her until she’s already sitting down. Regina just smiles over her shoulder for a moment before turning back to the framed pictures, lingering at the one where it’s just Henry with the two of them during his last birthday. It’s Emma’s favorite.

 

She looks away from Regina and swipes her finger through the whipped cream and dusting of cinnamon. She lets out an actual hum of contentment when she brings it to her mouth for a taste. The whipped cream is melting into the steaming drink, and she already knows it’s going to be ten times better than the hot chocolate at Granny’s. Regina always makes it perfect, just right, and Emma couldn’t possibly think of a quicker fix to her morning grumpiness if she tried. The fact that Regina always seems to know when she needs the sugar rush and the warm feeling of comfort hot chocolate provides doesn’t escape her notice, but Regina’s intuition no longer surprises her. She just accepts that somehow Regina knows, and Emma appreciates that.

 

It’s not unlike when Regina helped Emma find this apartment last year when she needed to get out of the house that only reminded her of how upside down everything in life was, how wrong everything had gone without her doing anything to stop it. Even then Regina had known what Emma needed. She hadn’t let Emma push her away like almost everyone else had, refused to let Emma go through the changes in her life that occurred after Hook was out of it and Emma could no longer ignore how screwed up everything had become. Regina kept being there and anticipating the needs Emma had never allowed herself to voice, and maybe that’s why Emma no longer questions how Regina knows which mornings she needs to start the day off with hot chocolate instead of coffee. Maybe the fact that Regina was there when Emma was too afraid to let anyone be there for her is the reason it’s so easy to let her be there now.

 

It’s probably also why it hurts her when she’s alone and feels like she’s not truly as important to Regina as Regina makes her feel. She _knows_ that she probably has no real reason to feel like Regina is just around because she feels some type of obligation or whatever, but she also can’t quiet the whispering voices that sneak up on her every now and then and try to make her feel like every good thing she feels is a lie. It’s too many years of thinking she was important to people who got rid of her without any thought, too many years of having to build herself back up after someone was careless with the fragile parts of her she thought she could trust in their hands. She’s always been replaceable to everyone, always. It’s hard ignoring all of that even when she wants to believe that Regina might be the exception, and it’s only made more difficult when Regina keeps being there for her and Emma keeps letting her in.

 

“Did I do something wrong?”

 

Emma startles slightly at the sound of Regina’s voice and looks away from her hot chocolate, frowning when she notices the whipped cream is melting down the side of her mug and making a mess. She looks up at Regina, brow furrowing in question. Regina nods her head down to the mug and Emma shakes her head in the negative, sighing.

 

“No,” she tells her, reaching for a napkin to wipe up the spillage. “It’s delicious.” She brings up the mug to her mouth and carefully takes a sip, breathing in the smell of cinnamon and chocolate like it can make all the insecurities that tumble about in her head disappear.

 

Regina's hand covers her shoulder and squeezes, her grip strong but her touch gentle as she relaxes her fingers and lets her hand trail across Emma’s back to reach her other shoulder. “Nice shirt.”

 

Emma laughs into her mug, flicking her eyes up to meet Regina’s as the brunette smirks and pulls out a chair to sit in. “It’s yours.”

 

“I know.”

 

Emma licks her lips and puts her mug down, glancing at the time before fiddling with the silky collar of the black button down. “You said one with buttons, and I figured you didn’t mean one of my henley shirts.”

 

Regina hums. Her eyes are fixed on Emma’s fingers as they play with the collar, but she doesn’t say anything for a long moment. When she looks up and clears her throat, there’s a small smile in place that manages to hold more warmth than the hot chocolate Emma’s hand is wrapped around. “You—you look good in it.”

 

Emma doesn’t have time to process the imperceptible darkening of Regina’s cheeks before she feels a sudden vibration against her thigh and knows it’s time for them to head to Granny’s. Regina’s phone is next, ringing in the pocket of the sleek leather jacket Regina placed on the back of the chair she’s now sitting at. Regina gives Emma a little eye roll before answering, and it makes Emma smile while she answers her phone.

 

She can hear Zelena in the background of her own call and knows she and Snow are already at the diner and that is who Regina’s on the phone with. Emma wonders briefly if they knew Regina had come over to her place or not, wonders if Regina, who is always on time, had known they were there but had still chosen to come over to make sure Emma was up and ready when she could have gone straight over to the diner. It means something if she did, Emma thinks. She doesn’t know what, but certainly it means something.

 

The phone call with her mother comes to an end when she promises to be there within fifteen minutes and hangs up. She wants to finish her hot chocolate before they leave. Regina’s still on the phone, mostly listening and tapping her nails on the table. Emma listens to the soft mhms and little noises of acknowledgment Regina makes, but mostly she’s just trying to finish her drink and not pay too much attention to the way Regina’s been watching her the entire time. It’s not unsettling, not really, it just makes it easier to sit there without fidgeting if she pretends she’s not aware of how the majority of Regina’s attention is still somehow being given to her while she’s in the middle of a phone call.

 

Regina reaches over and makes it impossible for Emma not to notice her, though. The feeling of fingertips brushing against her delicate earlobe almost sends a shiver down her spine and she nearly chokes on her hot chocolate, her eyes darting up to look at Regina. Regina mouths an apology, most likely believing she’d startled Emma. In reality, Emma’s stomach has just swooped, her pulse has jumped, and _that_ is what scares Emma.

 

“Your hair was out of place,” Regina tells her quietly, and even though she’d just fixed it, Emma lifts her own hand to brush her hair back. “No, I’m with Emma,” Regina slowly says into the phone with a small eye roll. “Of course not.”

 

Emma raises a curious eyebrow when another one of those almost blushes starts to darken Regina’s neck, but Regina avoids eye contact and gets up from the table and takes her jacket with her without saying a word. Emma follows her movements without leaving the table, furrowing her brow when Regina lets herself out of the apartment, softly clicking the door shut.

 

Suddenly, she doesn’t want the rest of her hot chocolate and she gets up and pours it down the drain. Her bed is sounding pretty appealing to her as she thinks about all the things she could be doing instead of leaving the house, but she’d just promised her mother she’d show up for brunch. She decides that she can go ahead and give Snow her gift instead of waiting until actual Mother’s Day since, for whatever reason, they’re celebrating a day early. That at least means she can have what's free of Sunday to herself to do all the things she planned on doing this morning—which is absolutely nothing.

 

It’s not that she doesn’t want to spend time with her mother, or even Regina and Zelena. It’s just that sometimes it feels like too much. Everything feels heavy with expectations, even when Snow insists all she wants is to make sure Emma is happy. But maybe that’s the expectation that weighs her down so often these days. Emma is grateful for a lot of the things she has in life, grateful for the friends and family by her side, but a lot of the time she just isn’t happy. And that’s not even what gets to her, even though it’s tiring sometimes. It’s pretending that she is that feels like too much. She doesn’t have to pretend when she’s home alone, or even when she's just with Regina and Henry hanging out. She’s either genuinely happy in those moments or they don’t make her feel like she’s doing something wrong because she isn’t. But with her mom, the moment Emma just seems a little off, Snow makes it into something bigger than it has to be. And _that_ is why she’d rather just stay home.

 

Emma gathers up all the things she needs and checks her reflection quickly, pushing thoughts of staying home out of her mind. Satisfied, she heads out of the apartment and locks up, not expecting to find Regina waiting for her outside with her hands curled around the railing and her head tilted back so she’s looking at the sky. She almost glows with a light that is all her own, and if Emma wasn’t used to seeing Regina like this, she thinks her breath might have completely left her instead of just catching in her throat when she stepped outside.

 

“You’re still here.” It’s stuck between being a question and a statement, but Regina smiles as she removes her sunglasses and looks at Emma instead of the sun that’s just barely peeking out from behind the clouds.

 

“I didn’t come all the way here to leave you,” she says in a tone that says Emma should have already known she would just be down the stairs and not halfway to the diner already.

 

Emma snorts and slips her keys into her pocket. “All the way,” she repeats. “We live five blocks away from each other, Regina.”

 

She shrugs one shoulder and runs her fingers through her glossy, dark hair. It’s starting to get long again, and Emma wonders if she’ll cut it or let it grow out. “The fact remains, I came here so that we could go to this brunch together. If I have to suffer through whatever Snow White has planned, then so do you.”

 

Emma almost laughs as she starts walking, taking slow steps until she hears the even beat of Regina’s pumps against the concrete. There’s a light breeze in the air that smells faintly of the ocean, and the sun is just bright enough to warm without making wearing her leather jacket uncomfortable. Emma breathes in deeply and doesn’t have to struggle to release a calm breath.

 

“Snow’s gift?” Regina questions, the back of her hand knocking against Emma’s.

 

Emma glances down needlessly, looking at Regina’s hand almost touching hers instead of the small boxes in her hand. “Mhm, and Zelena’s. I thought...” Emma shrugs, wanting to make light of what comes out next. “We started off on really unstable ground, you know, but she’s become family and I wanted to get her something, too. It’s nothing big. I was looking for something for Snow when I saw this necklace that’s her style—and you know how she likes her jewels.”

 

Regina hums. “That’s—”

 

“Dumb, I know,” she says with a heavy sigh.

 

“No, it isn’t,” Regina says in a tone that is borderline scolding. “I was actually going to say that it’s wonderful to hear that you think of her as family. I’m sure she’ll love the gift.”

 

Emma glances out of the corner of her eye, wondering why even though it sounds like Regina’s sincere there’s something off about her. Emma frowns, but she doesn’t say anything as they continue their walk down the quiet street. She feels like maybe they should have driven so they could be there already. It’s kind of awkward when Regina’s that weird type of silent that means she’s thinking too much. But then Regina’s fingers bump into her hand again and warmth travels all the way up her arm and she’s glad they’re walking. She likes the small touches, likes the reminder of Regina.

 

It’s when they’re almost at the door that Emma thinks she might have figured out what’s going on in Regina’s head. She rolls her eyes at the thought, because Regina can’t seriously think Emma got Zelena something but didn’t get Regina a gift. They share a son. They share a lot more than that, honestly. And Emma won’t admit it out loud, but she had been even more concerned about picking out a gift for Regina than she had Snow.

 

“We’re still spending tomorrow with Henry, right? This whole brunch thing doesn’t also change our plans, does it?”

 

“Of course not. We’ll still do everything else as planned,” Regina answers with an easy lightness to her voice.

 

Emma smiles, reaching for Regina’s arm to stop her before they can go in. Regina turns around to face her, but she doesn’t question why Emma has pulled them aside. Emma looks over Regina’s shoulder and into the diner, sees her mother and Zelena waiting for them. She forces a smile when they both catch her eye and Snow motions for her to come in.

 

Regina takes a peek over her shoulder and signals for the two women inside to give them a minute. “Everything okay?”

 

“Yeah. I just...” Emma bites the corner of her lip and lets go of Regina’s arm so she can run her fingers through her hair and rub the back of her neck. “I got you something, too. I didn’t want to give you yours in front of everyone else. I wanted to save it until later, until tomorrow after Henry goes upstairs or whatever.”

 

Regina is silent for a long moment that makes the nervous flutter in Emma’s stomach more pronounced, and then she takes Emma’s hand into her own and lets her fingers slip between Emma’s. There’s no thought to it, or at least it doesn’t seem like it. Regina just tangles their fingers together like it’s something they do every day.

 

“Let’s go inside before they come out here and cause a scene, okay?”

 

“Um. Yeah. Okay.” Emma feels like maybe she’s said something wrong, even though Regina hasn’t really verbally responded to what she said. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe Regina hadn’t been thinking about Emma and who she buys gifts for or anything like that.

 

But then as they’re walking through the doors, Regina’s soft hand still holding hers, their shoulders brushing, the sweet scent of the brunette’s perfume flirting with Emma’s nose, she leans closer and whispers, “I have something for you as well. I was also waiting for when we get a moment to ourselves—tomorrow, or tonight if you choose to come over.”

  
And Emma smiles, a genuine smile, as they walk over to the booth where Zelena and Snow are waiting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took an entire chapter just to get them to Granny's, but most of you are familiar with my (excessive) need for details... so maybe it's expected by now. 
> 
> Anyway. Thanks for reading. I hope you're at least half as excited as I am, because I am VERY excited.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to all of you for showing interest in this fic and leaving comments. Y'all are truly amazing!

Brunch has been exactly what Emma expected it would be: exhausting. However, that doesn’t mean she hasn’t had a good time. Once she stopped wondering why Snow kept looking at her strangely, smile too wide and eyes too full of excitement, she’d been able to relax and enjoy herself. It’s not the easy flow that she has when it’s just her and Regina, not even close, but she adds into the conversation between bites of food and sips of blushing mimosas. Everybody else is having a good time, so it makes it easier for her to laugh at the right times without every single laugh being forced like they had often been in the past. It’s only exhausting because Snow has a way of making everything drag on longer than it needs to, and Emma can only take so much cheery brightness before it starts to feel like she needs to escape. It’s fighting that urge to escape and learning to just enjoy being surrounded by her loved ones that she finds exhausting.

 

Regina catches her attention from across the table while Zelena is telling a story about Robyn. She must notice something in Emma’s eyes, maybe something from her expression, because the next thing Emma knows, Regina is dabbing the corners of her mouth and excusing herself from the table.

 

“I’m going to step out for a moment to get some air,” she tells them when she stands, but her eyes have a completely different message for Emma. They tell Emma to join her, and the quick glance Zelena throws Emma’s way makes it clear Regina’s not being all that subtle.

 

“Is everything all right?” Snow asks with concern lacing her voice, looking as though she’s about to get up despite the fact that Emma’s blocking her in.

 

Regina waves a dismissive hand and shakes her head before Snow starts rushing to help in whatever way she can—it’s what Snow usually does, quick to try to be by Regina’s side when she thinks she might need her. “No, yes, everything’s okay. It’s just a little stuffy in here and I’m feeling a tad overheated.”

 

Emma looks over to her mother to see if she’s buying it, and even though Zelena clearly isn’t, Snow seems to be. Emma reaches for her champagne flute and empties it. “I’ll come with you,” she says quickly, like it’s an afterthought and Regina isn’t giving her an out she desperately needs. She puts her hand on Snow’s arm and smiles before getting up and following Regina outside.

 

Regina leads them to a table and sighs softly when she takes a seat. She pinches the bridge of her nose and tilts her head back, shaking her hair out a little. “I think your mother might be trying to make this an all day event.”

 

Emma smirks from where she still stands beside Regina, but when the brunette turns to look at her, casually letting her eyes rake over Emma, Emma chooses to sit down. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow managed to. If anyone can turn brunch into a full on feast that lasts twice as long as necessary, it would be Snow.”

 

Regina hums her agreement and leans forward with her arms folded on the table. “She can try, but I’m going to need something stronger than a couple of mimosas if I’m going to be stuck in Granny’s for the rest of the day.”

 

Emma grins. “I second that.” Stretching, enjoying the calm breeze, Emma lets out a slow groan. Her thoughts drift away from brunch as she straightens in her chair. “Speaking of something stronger, you know what I want that keeps crossing my mind?”

 

Regina raises her brow in question, lifting her hand and carding her fingers through her hair before cradling her head. She looks content, ready to just sit outside for a while, and Emma wonders if maybe Regina had wanted to get away just like she had. Either way, whether she had been looking for an excuse to get away for a few minutes and found it in Emma or she had excused herself just so Emma could as well, Emma is glad that she did.

 

“I don’t know if you remember or not, but it was during the summer... It must have been around the time—oh!” Emma’s sudden laughter prevents her from continuing and makes Regina’s mouth twitch like she’s holding back a smile as she looks at Emma, waiting. Emma pulls one of her feet up into the chair and rests her chin against her knee, still laughing a little through her words. “That time David took Henry camping for the weekend and you stayed over for drinks after helping me unpack... Remember that? We ended up baking—or, rather, you baked and kept getting at me for tasting the batter—and then we watched crappy movies while eating cupcakes and ice cream that I’m pretty sure was basically sweet soup by the time we actually finished it. It was the first time we got drunk together, I mean, _really_ drunk.”

 

Regina’s nose wrinkles and she shakes her head, quiet laughter in her eyes. “Oh, God, don’t remind me.”

 

“Come on, that was fun. We had a good time that night.”

 

“We woke up on your couch, Emma. I wasn’t even wearing my own clothes anymore,” she says like that could have possibly taken away from how amazing it had all been. “Mind you, I still have no recollection of half of that night.”

 

“Okay, but you can’t tell me the parts you do remember weren’t fun. I was there, too, you know. I remember everything. You let loose that night, and even _I_ was surprised by it. Never did I think there would be a day Mayor Mills would be _dancing_ in my kitchen, but it happened. Plus, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh as much as you did with me.” It sounds like an accusation, she realizes after she’s said it. “I had fun, and I know you did, too,” she tells her with a small shrug, but she’s grinning from the memory.

 

Regina rolls her eyes, but there’s something about the way she looks at Emma that makes it undeniably obvious that she also enjoyed that night. “Well, that Scotch gave me a terrible hangover, so if you want more of it—”

 

“Nope,” Emma says, cutting her off. “That’s not what I want.”

 

Regina’s eyebrow arches. “Please tell me you’re not thinking about inviting me over for horror films again. They’re entirely too predictable, and I think we watched more than enough to last a lifetime that day.”

 

“Listen, those were just crappy movies. Don’t knock the whole genre,” she says with a laugh that is unsurprisingly easy as she defends her taste in films. “I’ll show you the good ones next time. I just didn’t think you could handle it.”

 

“Oh, please. I’ve seen worse than whatever unoriginal ideas some idiot with a typewriter and not enough brain cells can come up with. I’ve _done_ worse.”

 

Emma can only smile. Really, it’s her fault for trying to get Regina into horror films and not being smart about it. She blames her bad decisions on the alcohol. Next time she’ll do better. But that’s for another time. That’s not even what had been on her mind when she brought the night up.

 

“Anyway,” she says, picking at the seam on the inside of her thigh, scratching the denim with her fingernail. “What I was going to say was that I wanna do that again, not necessarily the movies, just...”

 

“You want to get me drunk again.” She says it flatly, but when Emma looks up, she’s smirking.

 

Emma doesn’t deny it, because, yes, that’s exactly what she wants. When Regina loses her inhibitions, when they both do, a good time is always a guarantee, and Emma feels like they haven’t really had a fun night alone together in a long time. Thankfully, they haven’t had to worry about any curses recently, none of the life-threatening chaos that constantly disturbs the peace their family and the town continues trying to create. But life in Storybrooke has still been busy despite the idea that nothing ever happens in small towns. Because of this, Emma finds herself often craving simple things like chill time with Regina.

 

She nods a bit in agreement before answering, her response purposely nonchalant. “Could be fun.”

 

“Could also end with me undressed on your sofa again,” Regina retorts, still smirking at Emma while the curved toe of Regina’s heel brushes over Emma’s leg.

 

Emma feels her face warm and tries burying it against her knee when Regina’s words form images that are impossible to unsee once they appear. Hiding her heated face is useless, she knows. Regina chuckles quietly and it’s obvious her blush is visible. She lifts her head and decides that if Regina’s going to say things just to for the reaction, just to make Emma blush, because Emma _knows_ that's why she’s said it, she’s going to do the same. It’s only fair.

 

“Or the bed,” she says, merely raising an eyebrow and giving Regina a suggestive look. Sometimes what’s implied in a simple look is enough, she knows, just like she knows that Regina has grabbed onto what little she did say and filled in enough blanks to follow Emma’s train of thought.

 

She doesn’t get the blush she was hoping for, though. Instead, Regina’s smirk falls and she’s suddenly studying Emma’s face a little too hard. She’s thoughtful and quiet until her tongue slips past her lips to run along the bottom one and she hums. “Well...”

 

And that’s all she says, that one word heavy and her voice low and thick. Emma’s not entirely sure Regina’s still trying to make her blush just because she know she can and she enjoys it, but Emma _does,_ and it’s only the sound of the diner door opening that keeps her from wondering why it feels like everything just shifted out of place.

 

Emma’s still looking at Regina when Zelena and Snow come outside, and Regina’s still looking at her. Zelena notices this and makes a show of clearing her throat as she steps over to them. “Are we interrupting something?”

 

That finally makes Emma look away from Regina, doing so just in time to catch her mother jab Zelena in the side lightly as she hisses, “Zelena.”

 

“What? It looks to me as though we were interrupting something. It’s only polite to ask,” she says, but there’s a second layer to the conversation that Emma’s missing between her and Snow because it’s silent and hidden between gestures and pointed looks.

 

“You are,” Regina says as she uncrosses her legs and straightens up in her seat. Her hands brush down the skirt of her dress and pull at the hemline, busying themselves in a way Emma knows means Regina’s unsettled. “It’s called a private conversation.”

 

“How private?” Zelena quickly challenges.

 

“Zelena!”

 

“What?”

 

Snow sighs and shakes her head, wrapping a hand around Zelena’s arm so she can pull her a few steps back from the table. They share another look and then Snow turns to face Emma, smiling at her. “Are you coming back to the house with us?” she asks hopefully.

 

“Uh...”

 

“Henry’s there,” Regina says as she stands from the table, reaching for the jacket Zelena’s holding out for her.

 

Emma nods as she stands and joins the rest of them. “Yeah. I guess I am. The laundry won’t do itself, but it’s also not going anywhere.”

 

“Splendid,” Snow says, and her wide smile causes a much smaller one to appear on Emma’s mouth as she follows her mother’s lead through the fence.

 

The house is quiet when they arrive, and Emma immediately finds out why when both David and Henry are rushing to the door to shush them because the kids are sleeping. David does this as he also practically sweeps Snow off her feet to kiss her like she’s been away for weeks instead of a few hours. It might have been sweet if they weren’t her parents and other people being affectionate around her didn’t make her uncomfortable. Instead, Emma quickly averts her eyes and goes over to Henry instead, smiling warmly at him when they bump the sides of their bodies into each other slightly in greeting.

 

“Ugh. Get a room,” she hears Zelena say, voicing the thought that had been in the back of her mind. She can always count on Zelena to say exactly what she’s thinking.

 

“This is our house,” David says, ending the kiss and helping Snow out of her lightweight jacket, “and if I miss my wife while she’s gone, I’m going to make sure she knows it when she gets back.”

 

“You don’t have to ‘make sure she knows it’ in such a sickening manner, do you? Some of us would appreciate being able to keep down our brunch.”

 

“While you know you are always welcomed here, Zelena, don’t forget you’re also more than welcomed to go someplace else,” he says, just like he’s been saying for over a year when they bicker. Zelena’s not going anywhere, though, and Emma knows David would be inviting her over under the guise of having someone for Neal to play with or something like that if Zelena stopped showing up as often as she does. After all, she’s part of this family just as much as everyone else is. They just enjoy getting on each other’s nerves—a lot, Emma had figured out sometime ago when she caught David smiling wide and big after the two of them had spent over five minutes arguing over nonsensical stuff while Snow just sat and watched like it was an everyday thing for them. (It is.)

 

Emma looks over her shoulder, catching Zelena roll her eyes with that natural dramatic flair of hers. Beside her, Regina’s doing the same thing. Emma grins a little and turns back to Henry, unsure how she ended up being one of the least dramatic people in her family.

 

“Please tell me there’s something to snack on here,” she whispers pleadingly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as they walk towards the kitchen.

 

“Didn’t you _just_ eat?”

 

“We both know you have no room to talk, kid. Or do I need to tell Regina about how you eat as soon as we get to my place after having dinner at the house? Hmm?”

 

Henry narrows his eyes at her, halfway to the cabinet where Snow keeps the snacks. It’s almost like he’s sizing her up for a moment. “You wouldn’t.”

 

Emma raises her brow, hopping up onto a bar stool. “I wouldn’t?” she challenges back.

 

“You wouldn’t what?” Regina asks, looking between Emma and Henry.

 

Henry rushes to get out a bag of chips and tosses them at Emma, giving her a look that screams his guilt to something more than it begs for Emma not to spill about his gluttonous behavior. Emma chuckles, shaking her head and taking the clip from the chips. Regina takes the chips out of her hand before she even gets to eat any, though.

 

“Hey!” She reaches for the chips, but Regina holds them out of reach. “Come on. Gimmie”

 

“We _just_ ate,” she says, using the same judging tone Henry had used on her. “You ate two plates of food and half of my pancakes, Emma.”

 

Emma pouts extra hard and looks at Regina with sad eyes that usually work really well when she wants something. “I’m hungry.”

 

It doesn’t work this time. Regina just pats her on her shoulder as she says, “I find that highly unlikely. Chances are, you’re bored, and we both know how you eat when you’re bored.” Regina hands the chips back to Henry and reaches for an apple from the fruit bowl. “If you’re truly hungry, then here, have this. If you’re going to eat something, have something with actual nutritional value.”

 

Henry snickers. Emma narrows her eyes at him and huffs out a breath. She takes the apple from Regina and bites into the fruit, knowing Regina’s right, that she’s not really hungry, but she’s not going to admit that. So she takes the crunching bite and makes a show of chewing, swallowing, and then going back in for more.

 

“Happy?” she mumbles against the apple.

 

“Start having one a day, and then we’ll talk,” Regina replies, smirking when Emma huffs out another loud breath.

 

Emma turns so her back is leaning against the island, her elbows resting on it. She’s watching Zelena and Snow check on the little ones while David cleans up toys and empties out the playpen, but her thoughts are far away from her. That’s probably why so much happens without her noticing, why suddenly everybody’s coming into the kitchen and Snow’s looking at her and Regina like she has some huge secret she’s struggling to keep in.

 

“Guys?” Emma stretches the word out slowly, cautiously. “What’s going on?”

 

Without answering, Henry takes the folder Snow’s holding out in her hand, and Emma turns around so that she’s looking into the kitchen and doesn’t have to strain her neck to see everyone. She raises an eyebrow when she looks at Regina, but Regina shrugs slightly, looking just as confused as Emma is. They both turn to their son.

 

“Henry? What is all of this about?” Regina asks.

 

He turns to look at Snow, and Emma sees her give him a little nod. “Moms,” he then starts slowly, standing with his shoulders rolled back. He looks as though he’s about to start a presentation at the head of a meeting. It makes Emma worry a little.

 

“Kid, if you’re about to tell us you did something that opened up some type of portal or we’re about to be transported to, I don’t know, Narnia—”

 

“Narnia,” Zelena repeats incredulously.

 

“Hey, we’ve been to just about everywhere else,” she says in her defense. “You can’t tell me Narnia existing would be hard to believe.”

 

“Yes, because there’s a realm out there with talking animals,” Zelena snarks with a look that says she can’t even believe she’s having this conversation with Emma.

 

“Um, do I need to remind you of your little _flying monkey_ that proposed to me? Have you suddenly forgotten about that?”

 

Zelena waves a hand through the air. “He didn’t speak when he was a monkey, now did he?”

 

Henry clears his throat loudly before Emma can respond. “Ma, nobody is going to Narnia. But it’s funny you bring that up, though, because you will be going somewhere.” His next words rush out before Emma can open her mouth to speak. “And before you ask, no, realm hopping will not be involved. You—both of you—will be using more modern modes of transportation.”

 

“Give them the folder,” Snow encourages in a stage whisper that’s completely unnecessary with them all surrounding the small island. She looks between Regina and Emma, grinning proudly as she waits for one of them to take the folder from Henry.

 

“It’s from all of us.”

 

Regina’s the one who takes it, giving the rest of the kitchen a questioning look instead of just opening the folder to reveal what’s inside like they’re all clearly waiting for her to do. “What’s going on?” Regina’s question has a slight harshness to it that comes out when she’s uncertain about something, but Emma’s too curious to wait to see how someone might choose to verbally answer when she can just look for herself.

 

“How about we just look inside the folder,” Emma suggests, tugging it from the brunette’s hand and plopping it down between them. She flips it open and is no less confused when she finds herself staring at a pair of plane tickets tucked in front of a thick brochure. “Um,” she says slowly, glancing up, not matching the smiles of the four people on the other side of the island.

 

“Let me see.”

 

She moves her hand when Regina pulls the folder closer to herself. Emma turns to look along with her, staying quiet as Regina first looks at the plane tickets and then neatly places them on the countertop. Regina makes no reaction to those, to the week in between the dates, but she does pause after sliding the glossy brochure and an envelope out of the folder. Her eyes carefully scan the booklet and then dart over to meet Emma’s, but Emma says nothing and only waits for Regina to either verbally comment on the luxury ranch on the cover of the brochure or open the envelope.

 

Regina’s only comment is a lengthy hum and a slow breath. She straightens up and leans with one of her elbows on the island as she chooses to go for the brochure, flipping open to the inside. Emma’s looking along, but all she can really focus on are all the dollar signs that might as well be drawn all over the pictures of the ranch grounds in Wine Country. There are private lodges bigger than places Emma has lived in, with hot tubs and outdoor showers. It all screams luxury, and Emma’s not really sure she even knows how to feel about receiving a gift that definitely took a lot of saving and would be wasted on her. She doesn’t even like wine that much.

 

That’s not even everything. When she really looks at the brochure and reads the descriptions, certain word choices make her stomach tighten uncomfortably. She’s holding her breath and forcing herself not to visibly react to any of it—because freaking out surely isn’t the best reaction when your family is sending you on vacation. She should be excited, not overthinking everything from prices to how less than an hour ago she was thinking about how she wanted time alone with Regina and now she could have an entire week of it.

 

_Intimate... Filled with luxurious amenities... Pampering... Elegance... Indulge every wish..._

 

Emma stops reading when she catches the twitch of Regina’s fingers when they get to a page full of couples enjoying various activities the resort offers, the focus on the special offers for those looking for a romantic getaway. The breath that she’s been holding rushes out when Regina turns to look her way. Regina probably doesn’t look at her for more than two seconds before quickly turning the page, but it feels like it lasts so much longer. Everything inside of Emma reacts to the look, to the hesitation in her eyes that makes Emma wonder what’s going on in her head. It’s a strange feeling, the one that has her heart skipping and her skin feeling too warm, but she forces it all away when she feels Regina’s hand on her knee and realizes she’s been absently making it jump up and down.

 

The brochure gets pushed aside and Regina’s smile is normal and comforting this time when she looks at Emma. She squeezes Emma’s knee and raises her brow, a silent question. Emma nods and finally looks back up to the four people who are still waiting with expectant looks on their faces. The warmth that’s on her knee doesn’t go away, and somehow that’s enough to make everything else settle.

 

Regina is the first to speak. “Sweetheart,” she says to Henry, and even though Emma can tell it’s meant to sound soft and loving, she recognizes that same uncertainty that she was feeling when looking at the booklet. Henry must hear it as well because he’s fighting back a frown, his eyebrows bunching up in the middle. “This is all very... Well, it's...”

 

Regina purses her lips and searches for a word, but Emma says two of her own before she gets the chance. “A lot,” slips out, unbidden and definitely not the response she had wanted to give, not when they all had looked so excited about their gift and ruining that excitement just makes her feel like she’s being ungrateful.

 

They all look like they’re unsure how to react, but then Zelena huffs out a breath into the awkwardly tense air and says, “Well, that’s certainly not the big woo-hoo we were expecting, that’s for sure.”

 

And even though that actually makes Emma feel less on edge, because it’s Zelena and Emma honestly appreciates how she doesn’t say what she thinks Emma wants to hear but whatever is really on her mind instead, Snow narrows her eyes at the redhead and quickly tries to undo whatever harm she thinks Zelena has done. “I think what Zelena means—”

 

“Zelena’s right here and said exactly what she means, thank you very much.”

 

David looks between Snow and Zelena while they have some sort of silent conversation, something that everybody around the kitchen island is used to by now. He steps from between them, clearly choosing to physically remove himself from the middle of things before they pull him in somehow. He stands next to Henry instead and smiles at Emma, one of those understanding smiles he’s so good at giving. It’s the Dad Smile, and just like the hand that still rests on her knee, and Zelena not saying what she thinks Emma wants to hear, it’s a comfort.

 

She’s pulled away from them, all of them, so many times in the past. She doesn’t think they really get why, why little things that seem insignificant cause the biggest reactions, why she didn’t show up for five family dinners in a row earlier in the year after her parents had spent the majority of family night talking about the puppy they were thinking about getting because Neal had developed a temporary dog obsession. Sometimes Emma doesn’t even understand why she reacts the way she does, so she understands why they don’t. She thinks that lack of understanding and the fact that Emma withdraws sometimes without warning are the reasons Snow tries so hard to do things that will make Emma happy. Snow and Emma have very different ideas of happiness, though, and most of the time Snow ends up pushing too hard. Despite the good intentions, even that makes Emma feel like she needs space.

 

On the opposite side of that, David tries to anticipate when something might trigger that need inside of Emma that says run. He’s usually the one who puts a hand on Snow’s shoulder and gets her to stop before it’s too much, changes topics when Emma is on the verge of inwardly screaming because of something. She thinks he’d anticipated her not receiving this gift with excitement, thinks he already knew she would be overthinking everything. There’s just something about his quiet understanding that makes her feel like he’s more in tune with what goes on inside of her head than the others are—well, not Regina, but Regina is often an exception for a lot in Emma’s life.

 

Henry is the brave soul who decides to broach the subject once again, looking at Emma and Regina like they’re missing the point to something important and he’s about to clear it up for them. “Moms, first, before anything else, I wanna say that I love both of you.”

 

“We all do,” David adds in. He reaches across the island and briefly covers Regina’s balled fist with his hand, looking her in the eye.

 

“And we love you all as well,” Regina slowly says for the both of them, “but—”

 

“No buts,” David says seriously, giving Regina a look that many would not get away with, one that tells her to keep quiet or else. Of course there’s no actual ‘or else’, but the warning still works.

 

Regina raises both hands in a show of acceptance and Emma misses her warmth the moment she realizes Regina’s not going to put her hand back down on Emma’s knee. If anybody notices her pout or realizes why it’s there, they don’t comment on it.

 

Zelena gives a little bored sigh from her spot next to Snow. “I need a cuppa. Anybody else?”

 

There are a few headshakes and a nod from Regina and Snow both. “The tea is—”

 

“Exactly where it always is,” Zelena singsongs as she moves around the kitchen, everybody watching her for a moment.

 

“The lavender—”

 

“Earl Grey. Yes. I know. I haven’t bumped my head and suddenly forgotten, love. I think I can manage making your tea without instructions.”

 

Snow smiles sweetly at Zelena and nods, turning back to the group. When she notices the eyes that are now focused on her, she lifts her brow questioningly. “What?”

 

Henry ducks his head, Regina looks between Snow and her sister with her own brow raised, and David looks just as confused about why everybody’s silently questioning Snow as the brunette is herself. It’s Emma that repeats the single word that had all heads besides David’s suddenly turning from the redhead to Snow. “Love,” she whispers, wrinkling her nose.

 

“Yes, Emma. It’s a sign of affection,” Snow responds in her own soft whisper. Her tone is almost _too_ defensive. “It’s sweet.”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders. “Okay. It’s just new. Her signs of affection usually come out more sarcastic than that.”

 

“You do know there’s no wall between us, right? My back turned to you doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly gone deaf,” Zelena says as she takes mugs down from the cabinet. She turns to look over her shoulder. “Yeah?” She pauses, as if waiting for an answer. Emma gives a slight nod. “Just checking.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes and folds her hands in front of her. “So...”

 

“Right,” Henry says, shaking his head like he’s getting rid of deep thoughts. “We all wanted to do something special for the two of you to show you guys how much we appreciate all you have done for us. I wasn’t really sure what to get for either of you, so I asked Grams for help picking out a gift. At first, I didn’t think we were going to find anything that felt right, but then we were on my computer when we saw an ad that pretty much sold us on this place right away. We decided to do a joint gift so we could give you guys a break, a real vacation for once.”

 

“I immediately thought of you, Regina, when I saw it.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Snow says like it’s obvious as she reaches over the island for the brochure. “I know you’ve recently started going down to the stables. They have horseback riding—that’s actually what the ad was for—and I just thought it might be something you would enjoy. That’s only the beginning of what they offer.”

 

Emma hears the sound of one of the children stirring from their sleep, a low whine and shuffling where Robyn and Neal have been napping. Before anyone else can go to them, Emma says she will check on them and escapes the conversation. She knows there are at least two pairs of eyes following her, her mother’s and Regina’s, but she makes her exit without meeting either of their gazes. She doesn’t feel like struggling to find a reason for why she’s so eager to go check on the little ones when she’s supposed to be listening to them talk about the ranch, couldn’t begin to even explain why knowing Regina popped into Snow’s mind first makes Emma feel territorial over her mother.

 

It’s ridiculous—especially when Emma knows she doesn’t make having a close relationship with Snow any easier by constantly pulling away. She just, maybe, sometimes, while also wanting the exact opposite, wishes Snow would shower her in all the attention she gives to Regina. It’s a weird need to be the favorite that conflicts with her dislike of being fussed over, and Emma’s spent enough time sifting through her emotions to at least understand that her jealousy doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with those involved. It all goes back to how she constantly wanted to be the most important person to someone but never truly felt like she was while growing up. She thinks that maybe one day she’ll stop craving reaffirmation that she’s worthy, that she is the kind of person people truly want without any ands, ifs, or buts attached to it. For now, however, it’s just another thing that she’s working on.

 

Emma stays with the toddlers for a few minutes, catching bits and pieces of the conversation coming from the kitchen while she watches Neal and Robyn sleep. It allows her to clear her mind. So when she returns, she doesn’t feel overwhelmed by all of Snow’s gushing and Henry’s proud smiles as he adds on to what Snow says. She’s able to just take in the information and listen to them try to persuade both Regina and herself that they’ll love the trip.

 

“And what about Henry? We can’t just leave him home alone for an entire week,” Regina says, and even Emma can tell she’s grasping at straws.

 

“Hello! Auntie Zelena here. Remember me?”

 

“He’s also welcomed to stay here with us,” David says as he cups one of Henry’s shoulders with a tight grip and they both grin. “We just started a _Star Wars_ marathon while you ladies were out having brunch. I think Henry would like to be able to continue that.”

 

Snow snorts out a small laugh into her tea before gently placing it down in front of her, looking over to Regina. “I think what David means is that _he_ would like to continue that. But he’s right, Henry is more than welcomed here while the two of you go to Napa. He’ll be in good hands. You know that.”

 

Emma can tell Regina no longer has any reasons for why she doesn’t think they should go after that, and soon everything is made final—as though there was much choice when everything was already purchased and paid for in advance. They’ll leave Monday morning after spending Sunday with Henry, and Emma decides that she’s going to be excited about getting away for a week instead of picking at all the little details that make accepting such a generous gift uncomfortable.

 

The rest of afternoon is spent on the back deck and in the yard. David and Henry kick around the soccer ball, and Emma splits her time with them and hanging out with the three women who are playing with Robyn and Neal on the sun-warmed grass. It’s the easy family fun that Emma actually enjoys, the type that brings out genuine laughter and makes her forget about the moments where she feels like she’s suffocating.

 

She’s laying on her back, laughing as Neal toddles away from her with the squishy ball they were tossing back and forth, when a Regina-shaped shadow blocks the sun from beaming down on her. She turns from her brother to the other woman, and the smile she had on her face remains. She sits up on her elbows and nods her head down to the spot beside her on the ground.

 

Regina hesitates, but then she carefully lowers herself to the grass and tucks her legs beneath her. She lets out a slow breath and tilts her head to the side so she’s looking at Emma. “We’ll find a decent bottle of Scotch while we’re over there,” she tells Emma, almost like a suggestion but not quite.

 

Emma raises her brow in response. “Huh?”

 

“This is me offering you what you asked for.” Regina rolls her eyes, but her smile hasn’t gone away. “If you need something to look forward to...”

 

Emma chuckles and falls back down on the grass properly. “Are you bribing me with the promise of a drunken night?”

 

Regina gives her a little shrug, letting a long hum fill her throat. “You’ve already agreed to go. I don’t believe it’s considered bribery if my offer has no impact on your decision.”

 

“True.” Emma rolls over onto her side so that she can better look at Regina, contemplating her next words before she lets her thoughts out into the calm stillness between them. “I was already looking forward to going,” she admits. “I mean, I don’t really know how to accept something like this, a gift this big. You know what I mean?” Regina nods. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not looking forward to getting to be with you for a week. This is actually something I’ve really been wanting, just you and me time. So, yeah, I'm looking forward to this.”

 

Regina’s looking down at her. She can tell Regina’s listening closely, not just hearing her but taking in her words and searching for any possible hidden meanings. She does this often, and even though sometimes it unnerves Emma—and even annoys her at times when she’s in that place where she just wants to push everybody away and pretend she’s fine but Regina sees right through the lies—Emma only smiles as she watches Regina process. There’s nothing hidden, no falseness to her words. She truly is looking forward to going away with Regina.

 

It happens slowly, the pull at the corners of Regina’s mouth, the rise of her cheeks, and then there’s a warm smile dancing all the way in Regina’s brown eyes that makes Emma feel like she’s accomplished something huge and important. Regina smiling down at her with the purest form of happiness, her expression open and unveiled, is truly mesmerizing. Emma can’t help but let her own smile grow into a grin that almost makes her cheeks hurt from how big it is.

 

“As am I,” Regina says, her voice just as soft as the expression on her face. “It'll be—"

 

"Fun, just what we need."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this fic was supposed to be super light, but my trips into Emma's head always bring me back to the emotional neglect that will always be a part of her. 
> 
> Also, like, I don't know how it happened, but if you caught onto that OT3 mess I accidentally created, don't question where it came from. I tried to keep it subtle and even took out pieces, but apparently it refuses to go away because I've been told it's still very much apparent. 
> 
> Anyway. We've got one more chapter before we change locations! But first, Mother's Day with Henry and gift exchanges between Emma and Regina.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit later in the day than I planned, but here it is! 
> 
> Thanks to all of you for leaving comments. I really appreciate them and love hearing your thoughts. I'm really behind on replying to them, but I'm gonna get to the rest of them tonight/tomorrow.

Emma spends her Sunday morning doing what she was supposed to do on Saturday but didn’t get to because she stayed at her parents’ house until late in the evening. The laundry gets washed, the living room tidied, and the bathroom gets cleaned. She does all of this while actively _not_ thinking about the vacation she’ll be leaving for in less than twenty-four hours. She doesn’t think much about that until it’s time to pack and she realizes she doesn’t really know what to expect. She doesn’t know what Regina is going to want to do while they’re there, doesn’t know if Regina’s the kind of person who would spend most of their time by the pool or the kind who’d want to go on hikes. She feels like she should know this kind of stuff.

 

Emma’s never been on a proper vacation—and she’s not sure, but she doesn’t think Regina has either. This could very much be a first for both of them, certainly a first for them together. They’ve done the whole road trip thing a few times, but none of those count. This is the first time they’re truly going away together, and the more Emma thinks about it, the more the little things that she hadn’t considered the day before start to pop up in her head.

 

She remembers the pictures in the brochure she’d let Regina take home because she knew she wouldn’t look through it on her own. The restaurant, like the rest of the resort, has a rustic charm that Emma had thought made it less intimidating when she took in the elegant vibe they were also going for with the tablecloth-covered tables that overlooked the lake. It’s not exactly the kind of place she can wear a tank top with her jeans. It’s not that she cares that much about fashion, she just doesn’t want people to look at her and automatically think she doesn’t belong. She hates that feeling of walking in and having to throw on an extra layer of false bravado and confidence because she knows everyone can tell she’s not one of them.

 

She also knows Regina will look flawless, and even though she’s comfortable just being herself with Regina, she wants to look the part of the kind of person that a classy woman like Regina would go out to dinner with. She knows, technically, she is that person. They go out together without the company of others already, meet up for dinner when Henry’s spending the night with her parents or at a friend’s house. Emma _is_ the person Regina chooses to be with, the one she chooses to be her person whenever she is looking for a plus one or a companion for the night. And Emma knows she has other options, knows that it means something that she’s always the first choice, so it’s not about Regina when she feels like she needs to put in a little more effort, do a little extra while they’re away. It’s about the outside world and perceptions. Even though she hates admitting that she still lets other people's views of her bother her, especially after this last year of evaluating how she had changed so much because of that very reason, how she had changed to play a part for someone else, she knows she does sometimes.

 

There’s also one other small detail that refuses to be ignored about the restaurant. It’s probably not even a big deal. She makes small issues bigger ones in her head sometimes, and this might be one of those times. She’s thinking about all the couples and the candlelit tables, the romantic atmosphere of the restaurant—of a lot of the ranch. Will she and Regina be comfortable surrounded by couples holding hands and sharing intimate moments together? Will it be awkward for them? Of course, Emma knows it’s unlikely that they’ll be the only non-couple there. People travel by themselves or with friends all the time. But the glossy photographs from the brochure with all the romantic couples gazing into each other’s eyes over dinner just won’t stop appearing in her head.

 

Instead of trying to figure out what she should pack to wear to dinner, she ends up laying in bed with too many questions about how things will play out once they’re there. She doesn’t want Regina to feel uncomfortable with her because every way they turn there’s another couple, another person celebrating their happy romantic relationship. She knows Regina is happy in life now, knows that Regina’s found her happiness within herself and with their family. She hasn’t even shown any interest in dating, has turned down a few people that Emma thought might have been her type. But what if being surrounded by loving couples while she’s just with Emma makes her miss being one of those people? What if Emma being by her side is just a reminder of how long she’s been single and it makes everything weird and uncomfortable for an entire week?

 

A long sigh fills her bedroom as she rolls off her back and reaches for her charging phone on the nightstand. She unplugs the device and checks the time, sees that she still has two hours before she needs to head over to Regina’s house with her packed suitcase. She’s worrying too much about little things, and she wants to believe the scenarios she’s creating won’t happen. To force her mind to clear, she decides to put on some music and focus on packing instead of everything else.

 

Later, when Emma arrives at Regina’s house, she parks in the driveway, her packed suitcase and an overnight bag both with her. She leaves the suitcase in the car to take out in the morning when she and Regina get picked up, but the overnight bag with Regina’s gift and a change of clothes comes inside with her.

 

She shuts the car door with a soft thud and slings her bag over her shoulder. As she walks to the side door, she pulls out her cell phone to send a quick text message to let Regina know she’s there. But before she even unlocks her phone, the door swings open and the sound of Latin music pours out of the house.

 

She slips her phone into her back pocket and smiles widely in greeting. “Hey. I was just about to text you.”

 

Regina’s hair is pulled back and twisted with a clip holding it in place, her face not made up with the makeup that is almost always present, and when she steps aside to allow Emma entry, her eyes crinkle around the edges with the smile she returns. “I saw when you arrived.”

 

Emma looks over her shoulder as Regina locks up, waiting for her before walking towards the front of the house. As she waits, she breathes in the familiar scent that’s in the air and can’t help but smirk a little to herself. “Today’s Sunday,” she says when Regina starts leading them to the living room.

 

Regina turns and gives her an odd look. “I am aware.” She sounds confused. “Tomorrow is Monday. The next day will be Tuesday.”

 

“I mean,” Emma says with an eye roll, stretching the words out, “today is Sunday.”

 

“All you did was repeat yourself.”

 

Emma sweeps her hand through the air in front of her as she explains, as though the living room is on display and she needs to make sure Regina sees it. “You’re cleaning, but that’s for Saturdays. Today is Sunday.”

 

The small laugh Regina makes is full of amusement that Emma sees is in her eyes when Regina sits against the sofa arm and faces her. “Are you keeping track of my routines now, Emma?”

 

“No,” she says too quickly, dropping her bag down on one of the chairs. She then plops down in another, stretching her legs out comfortably. “I don’t ‘keep track’ of them,” she tells her, using air quotes, “I just know what the Latin music means. And it smells like lemon. It smells like lemon every Saturday, and whenever I’m here in the morning on Saturdays—”

 

“There’s Latin music playing and I’m cleaning,” Regina finishes with a slowly growing smile as she looks at Emma, studying her face with her head tilted to the side slightly.

 

Emma should be used to the way Regina sometimes looks at her like she’s something that needs to be figured out—she does it so often that it’s almost expected—but the attention and the thoughtful hum makes her squirm in her seat. Nobody makes her feel as transparent as Regina does. Others try to see beyond her outer layer, but it’s only Regina that Emma thinks actually can. It makes her self-conscious, something she usually tries to hide behind a joke or a topic change. But she just sits there this time, heart beating in her throat and lip caught between her teeth, staring back at Regina, trying to figure out what she sees, what she’s thinking.

 

Reading Regina is like sitting down with a book with over a thousand pages written in a dead language that Emma never studied or understood but somehow still comprehends, like there’s something inside of her that understands what her brain does not. It’s instinctual, she thinks. Just how Regina can read her in ways others cannot, Emma believes the reverse is the same. She has no words to describe the connection between them, no way of explaining why even when complex and guarded Regina is what she’s faced with, she still _gets_ her, can typically make sense of what’s unclear to others. There are still times that she can’t figure out what a certain look means, what causes an unfamiliar reaction, but those moments are rare.

 

This is one of those moments. She recognizes the amusement that still plays in russet eyes, can see the admiration for what it is, but there’s something like hesitation, maybe even a complete need to pull back, that Emma just can’t figure out. She doesn’t really have time to contemplate what it could mean before Regina’s clearing her throat and standing up, rubbing her hands together as she finally breaks the connection between them by glancing around the room. Emma sits up in her seat, ready for whatever Regina’s next move is, still wondering in the back of her mind what Regina had been thinking but leaving it for another time. Maybe her thoughts will reveal themselves later if they’re meant to be shared. Emma can be patient—sometimes.

 

“Henry should be down soon. He wanted to sleep in this morning, so he’s behind on his chores.” Regina motions with her fingers for Emma to follow her as she begins walking out of the living room.

 

Emma is up on her feet and on her way to the kitchen in an instant, reaching in front of Regina to push the door open before Regina can get it herself. This earns her a small smile that makes Emma grin as she waits for Regina to enter before stepping into the room behind her. While the rest of the house smells of lemon and faintly of bleach, the kitchen smells like breakfast food despite it being past noon. It makes her lick her lips subconsciously as she pulls herself up onto a stool while Regina goes to the fridge.

 

“I still haven’t figured out how to get him up by this time when he’s at my place,” she admits with a small chuckle. “I don’t know when he went from being an early riser to being dead to the world before noon, but our days don’t usually start to around one when he’s there.”

 

“I’m sure the lack of a bedtime has something to do with that, dear,” Regina says with a knowing look. “If you allow him to stay up all hours of the night, then...” She lets her statement trail off naturally.

 

“You’re better at enforcing the hard rules. You know that.”

 

There’s a snort of laughter as Regina brings a pitcher of iced tea to the island and then leans over the clean surface. “An appropriate bedtime for a child his age is not a hard rule, Emma.”

 

“I got him to do the dishes without even having to ask him anymore. How about we look at that accomplishment instead of focusing on his sleeping habits, yeah?” She flashes the widest smile she can manage and waggles her eyebrows, just because she knows it’ll make Regina smile at her and there’s something special about the slow, fond smiles that Regina reserves for her.

 

It comes with a roll of her eyes, but the smile is there as she shakes her head and then straightens back up. “Baby steps,” she says, reaching for one of the glasses she brought over. She fills it and passes it to Emma, pausing to hold it just out of reach when Emma goes to take it from her. “Your next task is to make sure he’s doing his fair share of housework over there. Don’t let our son turn into a slouch.”

 

Despite the serious tone, Regina’s eyes dance with mirth. Emma salutes her as she says, “Sir, yes, Sir. Anything else?”

 

Regina tilts her head, contemplating something for a moment. But although there appears to be something on her mind, she shakes her head and hands over Emma’s drink. “That’s all for now.”

 

They continue talking until they are joined by Henry a few minutes later, Henry who automatically goes in for the tea before sidling up next to Emma and sliding an envelope over to her. Her brow furrows slightly, but she picks it up from the island and opens it without question. Regina steps away to put the pitcher in the fridge, the three of them all with their own glass of tea now, energetic music still flowing into the room.

 

Henry gives her a few moments to read what turns out to be a card before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and hugging her from the side tightly. “Happy Mother’s Day, Ma.”  

 

She gently places the card full of heartfelt words down and turns to give him a proper hug. Sometimes she forgets how satisfying this is, being able to hug her son and know that, despite everything, he loves her unconditionally. She doesn’t know what she’s ever done in life to deserve him, to deserve the unwavering belief he has in her, but having that is like nothing else she’s ever had before. Her eyes fall shut and she lingers longer than she usually does, enjoying the moment before she pulls back and gives his arm a squeeze.

 

“Thank you,” she says, the words simple but the scratch in her throat revealing. She ruffles his hair to lighten the mood, knowing he can probably sense the emotions that are swirling wildly inside her heart.

 

Regina allows a couple minutes of silence before asking Henry, “Are you finished with your room?”

 

He nods and downs half of his iced tea. “And the bathroom. Can we play Scrabble now?” he asks excitedly, looking between them both. Emma just turns to look at Regina with her eyebrow raised with her own question.

 

“Did you take your shower?” Regina questions.

 

Henry deflates a little, standing there in pajamas that gives away the answer before he does. Emma gives him a gentle shove. “After your shower, we can play. Go.”

 

“Okay, but I’m just going to put on more pajamas,” he says as he finishes his tea, looking at Regina over the rim while the brunette looks at him expectantly. He swallows and sighs, licks his lips and then adds, “Is that okay? We’re not leaving the house and nobody’s coming over.”

 

“Very well.”

 

“Sweet.” He rushes off after that, only making a quick stop at the sink to put his empty glass inside of it.

 

Regina watches him go, just barely containing the obvious urge to tell him not to run in the house. Emma chuckles behind her hand as she watches her watch him. Regina’s eyes snap over to Emma the moment he is gone, glaring in response to the muffled laughter. It has no heat, not even an ounce of fire in it. Regina’s wearing her cleaning clothes, her chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of one of her leggings or yoga pants that she owns in abundance even though Emma has a hard time picturing Regina ever actually doing yoga when Regina always feels the need to be doing something. Taking time to breathe or whatever people do during yoga doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Regina could get into when Emma knows even Regina’s thoughts are overactive. Regina in her cleaning attire is far from scary, so Emma only lets her laugh grow louder in response to the glare she’s given.

 

“Come on,” Emma says, picking up her beverage and nodding her head towards the doorway. “You know he’s gonna rush through that shower. Let’s go set everything up.” Regina’s still glaring at her, unmoving. Emma rolls her eyes and reaches for Regina’s arm, gently tugging. “If you don’t move on your own, I’m going to be forced to pick you up and bring you there myself.”

 

Regina only stops glaring at Emma because she starts looking at her like she’s suddenly lost her mind. “Don’t even think about it.”

 

Emma puts her tea back on the island and wipes her hand on her jeans while coming around to where Regina is stubbornly not moving, looking at Emma like she wouldn’t dare lift Regina up like she had jokingly said she would. But there’s also a bit of a challenge in her eyes, a quiet curiosity hidden even deeper than that.

 

“Emma,” Regina warns, but Emma notices she’s no longer holding onto her glass anymore, almost as if she’s anticipating the lift.  

 

“Are you going to go?” Emma asks, wondering what kind of trouble she would get herself into by the next move she’s thinking about making. “‘Cause I was serious.”

 

There’s a quick flash of something in Regina’s eyes when she glances away from Emma’s face to one of her arms, to the curve of muscles her racerback tank reveals. Emma finds it intriguing despite not being able to put a name to it.

 

“You’re thinking about it,” she assumes aloud, and Regina’s silent admission is written all over the brunette’s face when she openly stares at Emma with the faintest hint of a blush darkening her skin. The challenge is still visible, but the protest is gone, and when Emma steps closer, Regina just looks at her like she’s waiting for her to do _something._

 

But the moment is instantly ruined when the kitchen door swings open and Henry comes running back in. Regina lets out a frustrated groan and then straightens up, avoiding eye contact and turning to look at their son who is hovering awkwardly, giving them a strange look like he's trying to figure out what's going on. And Emma just steps off to the side, feeling oddly fluttery and suddenly a bit heated, like she's been caught misbehaving when she hadn't even been doing anything wrong.

  
  
"Um," Henry says slowly.

 

Emma reaches for her tea and asks, “What’s up, kid?” She finishes it quickly and moves over to the sink, noticing Regina’s still silently staring at Henry, her eyes a bit wider than normal.

 

“I just, um...” Henry clears his throat. “I forgot to remind Mom that she said we could order pizza for lunch.”

 

“Oh. Okay. I can do that. Pepperoni?”

 

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, glancing between his two mothers. “I’m going to go back upstairs now,” he tells them, each word coming out slowly, holding purpose, “and I’m going to be up there for maybe ten more minutes. Ten.”

 

Emma narrows her eyes, confused. “Okay,” she says just as slowly. She turns to look at Regina, wondering if she understands why Henry’s speaking to them as though they need an extra five seconds between each word to understand what he’s saying. But Regina’s still avoiding eye contact while her fingers flex restlessly.

 

“Ten,” Henry repeats before leaving them alone.

 

Emma pulls her cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “And the award for the weirdest moment...” She murmurs quietly as she swipes her finger across the phone, throwing a questioning look Regina’s way when she notices that the other woman still hasn’t moved or said anything. “You good, Regina?”

 

Regina startles ever so slightly like she had forgotten Emma was there with her. She doesn’t turn around to look at Emma, but she nods her head and clears her throat. Her voice still sounds off when she speaks, though. “Just fine.”

 

Emma knows it’s a lie, but she doesn’t call her out on it. “Pepperoni okay with you?”

 

“Yes, that’s fine,” she answers distractedly, wiping the island down.

 

Emma crosses the few yards between them and puts her hand on Regina’s shoulder, prepared for the slight jump that happens before Regina finally meets her gaze and lets a hint of a smile appear. “You good?” she asks again, making it obvious she hadn’t believed the first answer.

 

Regina seems to fully relax then. She reaches across her body to lay her hand on top of Emma’s. Her touch is almost as gentle as the look that she’s giving Emma. “Yes,” she tells her, and this time it sounds like the truth. “I’m all right.”

 

Emma stays standing behind Regina until the solid weight is no longer on her hand. She makes the phone call for the pizza and then the two of them set up the Scrabble board at the dining room table. When Henry returns, he announces that he’s about to come down the stairs and Emma rolls her eyes, telling him to hurry up or he doesn’t get any of the pizza. That makes him rush down the stairs—which makes Regina scold them both, Henry for running and Emma for encouraging.

 

Scrabble is as Scrabble always is with the three of them: competitive.  

 

All is fine until Regina starts pulling out words that Emma’s not even sure are words and scores big, always landing on the bonus squares and multiplying her scores.

 

“What the hell does that even say? What're qanats? Sounds like a fake word you made up just so you could get the triple points on that ‘Q’ you’ve been holding on to.”

 

Regina scoffs and moves her letters closer to her. “First of all, I do not cheat. Secondly, are you looking at my tiles?”

 

Emma denies it quickly. “No, I just, you know...”

 

“Ma,” Henry says with shock that sounds way too put on to be convincing. “You’re cheating!”

 

But Emma’s not going down alone. “Don’t even. You cheat every single game when we play Monopoly.”

 

“Henry!”

 

“Emma!”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders and sits back. “I still don’t think qanats is a word.”

 

“Well that’s too bad, especially since it most definitely is a word.”

 

“How is _that_ a word when booyah wasn’t?”

 

Regina and Henry both chuckle, and Emma just groans as a dictionary is pushed her way. She doesn’t check to see if qanats is a word, though. If Regina said it is, she’s pretty sure she’s right, and there’s no satisfaction in proving herself wrong. However, there is plenty to enjoy about the sound of all the laughter around the table as they continue playing.

 

Emma isn’t really sure what other mothers do on Mother’s Day, but, by the time Henry is kissing the top of her head while saying goodnight, leaving her with Regina on the sofa, she doesn’t see how anything could possibly top the day she had with her son and his other mother.

 

After playing several rounds of Scrabble—and winning absolutely none of them—they had moved onto a movie and snacks, making a mess as Emma and Henry threw popcorn to each other to catch with their mouths. Regina refused to play along, but that didn’t stop Emma from throwing a few kernels her way. Eating popcorn in the family room has now been banned, but it was worth it.

 

Next, Henry and Emma cooked Regina dinner for once, choosing one of Regina’s favorite dishes and doing their best to make it perfect. Even though Emma knows for sure they screwed up several things, Regina still gave them that sun-bright smile that lit up her entire face when she was finally allowed to see what they had made. She was full of praises and compliments, making sure they knew how much she appreciated their efforts.

 

After the kitchen had been cleaned and the leftovers put away, they decided to finish the night with a movie. Emma had been allowed to choose the first one, so Regina chose a classic that was funnier than Emma had been expecting it would be. All in all, it was a pretty awesome day, Emma thinks.

 

Regina follows Henry’s departure from the room until he’s out of sight, that warm look in her eyes that reminds Emma of sunsets and roaring fires. That look is turned on Emma after a beat of silence, and Emma lets the corners of her mouth curl upwards into a slow smile that feels wonderfully easy. They’re sitting on opposite sides of the sofa, both of them curled into their own space but sharing the middle cushion for their feet. They’ve been like this for over an hour, maybe through the entire movie. So Emma isn’t surprised when Regina stretches and unfurls her legs, letting them straighten out beside Emma’s, her bare feet tucked between Emma’s knees and the back of the sofa.

 

She hums contently and removes the clip from her hair, letting it fall down to where it now dusts her shoulders. There’s a lot of quiet moments between them, a lot of moments when they’ll just sit together and Emma wonders what Regina’s thinking about. Watching the way Regina seems to unfold and relax, get comfortable, all while still looking at Emma, makes Emma curious about Regina’s thoughts.

 

The curiosity appears to be one they share, a questioning look forming in Regina’s eyes after quietly letting Emma observe her. “Something on your mind?”

 

Emma shakes her head, but she clears her throat and answers with something that hadn’t been on her mind but had been in her thoughts earlier in the day. “You think we should talk about tomorrow—about the whole week?”

 

Regina looks as though she had been expecting the question. She pulls in a breath and holds onto it while silently contemplating something, her head tilted to the side. She releases the slow stream of air after a few heartbeats and nods twice. “Anything in particular you think we need to discuss?”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders, not sure there’s one thing she wants to bring up. “No, not really,” she decides. “It’s just that we didn’t really talk about it much yesterday. It’s been on my mind.”

 

Regina hums.

 

Her thoughts from the morning come back to her, the couples in the brochure, the romantic vibe. She clears her throat and looks away from Regina. “Do you think it’s weird that they’re sending us on this trip together?”

 

Regina shifts enough in her seat for it to be noticeable, but she doesn’t answer the question right away. There are one too many seconds of silence before Regina questions, sounding unsure, “Do _you_ think it’s weird?”

 

Emma lifts her head and narrows her eyes, looking at Regina. “That’s not fair. I asked you first.”

 

Despite the uncertainty that’s noticeable in Regina’s eyes, she smirks. “No, Emma. I wouldn’t say that I find it weird.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Regina’s eyebrow arches. “Do you?” she questions again.

 

Emma chooses her words carefully because her answer is not a simple one. “I get that they want to give us a break, and even them sending us away together makes sense. I know I wouldn’t want to go alone.” She chances a smile and is glad to see it returned. “It’s just... Maybe they could have picked something different.”

 

“Different in what way?”

 

“I don’t know. They could have sent us to New York or wherever, somewhere touristy where you could shop and I could try new food and sightsee or...” She shrugs. She doesn’t know what people do on vacation, but that sounds like fun to her—even if Regina would drag her down Fifth Avenue and she’d end up carrying bags of shoes that she’s sure Regina doesn’t actually need.

 

Regina looks confused but like she’s trying to understand the things that Regina has obviously noticed Emma’s not putting into words. “We’ll be a short drive from a shopping area and there’ll be plenty to see in Napa, so I know there’s more to what you’re saying,” she says with a gentle, understanding smile even though it’s clear she doesn’t understand.

 

Emma huffs out a breath. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just—”

 

“Emma.” She gives her a look that Emma knows means to just go ahead and let out what she needs to say. “Don’t do that. Talk to me.”

 

Emma nods and looks over to the stairs for a moment before sighing. “You know how it’s weird when David and Snow get grossly affectionate around us?”

 

“I guess I do. Go on.”

 

“Well, we’re going to be around other couples who will probably also be grossly affectionate around us.”

 

“Which is possible wherever we go.”

 

“Well, yeah, but...” Emma works her fingers through her hair and groans with frustration, hating how difficult it is to find the proper words. “They’re practically sending us away to a couple’s retreat, Regina. They didn’t even think about how awkward that might be when we’re both single.”

 

She can tell almost immediately that Regina wasn’t expecting what she said. Regina pulls into herself, bringing her feet back over to her side of the sofa as she straightens up. Emma’s stomach drops, knowing her words have caused an invisible barrier to go up between them.

 

Regina’s voice even sounds distant when she starts to speak. “If you’re uncomfortable—”

 

“No,” Emma says, stopping her before she’s even started, the single word sounding like the plea to be understood that is. “I’m not uncomfortable with the idea of going. That’s not what I’m trying to say at all. I meant what I said yesterday. I wanna go with you. I’m excited about the trip.”

 

“Emma.” Regina lets out a tired breath. “I’m not sure I’m following any of this anymore.”

 

Nothing makes sense, not even inside her head. If she can’t understand it herself, of course Regina’s not going to be able to understand. Something about the trip is bothering her, though, and every time she thinks about the stupid brochure with the couples and the lovey-dovey looks, she feels uncomfortable. The discomfort has nothing to do with the fact that she’ll be with Regina. But she doesn’t know how to share how she feels without it sounding like that’s what the problem is.

 

She takes a moment to work through her thoughts before words rush out of her mouth. “What if while we’re there every time you see another couple, it makes you wish you were there with someone else? You know, someone who isn’t me.”

 

Regina looks even more confused, and that confusion makes something in Emma’s stomach twist painfully. “Whom else would I want to be there with?”

 

Emma shrugs. “I don’t know,” she breathes out, and suddenly she feels overwhelmed. She repositions herself so she can draw her knees to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. “I don’t know—just not me.”

 

Regina does the exact opposite of what Emma’s just done, stretching her legs back out to how they were before. “Are you aware that you’re the last person I speak to every day?”

 

“What?” Emma lifts her head from where she’s buried it against the top of her knees. “Are we having a competition to see who can confuse the other more?”

 

Regina gives a small eye roll. “Answer the question, Emma.”

 

Emma thinks about it, about how Regina keeps her company through texts or phone calls when she’s working night shifts, and how she herself won’t go to sleep until after she knows Regina’s also in bed and not still up working on something. Regina’s the last person she speaks to every day, too, she realizes, something she’s never really thought about.

 

“Well, now that you’ve brought it up... But what—”

 

“I haven’t had lunch by myself at work in—well, I don’t even remember the last time we didn’t have our lunch together during the workweek. Even when we’re in the middle of a busy day, we find the time to have lunch together.”

 

“I—”

 

“A great deal of our time is already spent together because we share a son—and a family—but on top of that, I’d like to think we both find our friendship mutually beneficial and that contributes to how much time we are around each other.”

 

“What are you getting at?”

 

Regina smiles at Emma fondly even as she rolls her eyes. “What I’m getting at, Emma, is that there’s nobody I’d rather be spending my time with. That isn’t something a change of environment will have any impact on. The fact remains the same regardless of outside circumstances. Okay?”

 

It feels heavy, everything Regina’s just said to her. But, oddly enough, it also makes Emma feel lighter. The meaning of what Regina tells her makes the uncomfortable knot in her stomach loosen, and she realizes that it’s not so much the people they’ll be surrounded by, nor the vibe, but the possibility that Regina would rather she be taking this trip with someone else that is making her overthink everything.

 

“I don’t get how you do that, but thank you.”

 

“Do what?”

 

Emma shrugs one shoulder and starts to get up from the sofa. “You just always know—what I need to hear, what helps, when I need a little help getting to the root of what’s bothering me.” She smiles at Regina as she stands and gives her shoulder a squeeze as she walks by her, going for her overnight bag across the room. “You’re a little too good at it sometimes,” she says with a low chuckle, “but even then I appreciate it.”

 

Regina hums in response, stretching with her arms raised above her head. “Are you heading up already?”

 

Emma grabs her bag and shakes her head. “No. I thought I’d go ahead and give you this while everything’s already kinda full of emotions right now.” She can hear Regina sitting up. She swallows thickly and pulls out the wrapped box from her bag. “It’s your gift.”

 

But before Emma can pass it over to Regina, Regina is up from her seat and leaving the room. “Hold on a moment. Let me get you yours. It’s inside the study.”

 

Emma sits back down on the sofa with her gift for Regina, feeling nervous as she waits. After not finding anything that felt right for Regina while she was out buying her gifts for Snow and Zelena, she had decided to make her something. Making something for Regina hadn’t been any easier, honestly. Every idea she had seemed stupid or childish, so it had taken her an entire week to figure out how she could put the crafting skills she most likely had Snow to thank for to good use. But as she waits for Regina to return, she wonders if maybe she should have just bought her something simple instead.

 

Thankfully, Regina doesn’t stay away long and her own nerves are pushed aside when she sees Regina hovering at the entrance of the room, looking more unsure than Emma had been feeling. Emma moves from the edge of the cushion and gets comfortable, smiling at Regina as she pats the spot beside her and gestures with her head for Regina to come closer. It takes a moment, but Regina crosses the room and, first rigidly, then more relaxed, sits next to Emma.

 

“You wanna go first?” Emma asks. “Or, like, we can just, you know, switch and not make this a big deal.”

 

Regina glances down and looks at the simple black box with the yellow ribbon that sits on her lap before holding it out for Emma. When Emma goes to take it, Regina covers her hand with one of her own and doesn’t let go right away. “You’ll most likely require an explanation of what it is once you open the box, but I found this in my closet a few months ago and thought that you might like to have it.”

 

The deep look in Regina’s eyes when she looks into Emma’s piques her curiosity and also makes her swallow loudly as she nods. “Thank you. Do you—” Emma holds Regina’s gift up from her lap. “We can open at the same time.”

 

Regina takes her gift from Emma with a smile. “Well. Happy Mother’s Day,” she says, holding onto her box but watching Emma.

 

Emma pulls at the ribbon that’s tied into a neat bow, almost wishing she didn’t have to remove it to get inside the box because it had been tied so perfectly. Her stomach flips with nerves and she hasn’t even done more than let the ribbon fall down to her lap. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Regina is still watching her, perhaps for a reaction, so she doesn’t let the moment drag on before pulling the cover off.

 

“It’s—”

 

“A book,” Emma says.

 

“A journal, to be more precise.”

 

Emma smiles as she removes the journal from the box. It’s an old leather book with a worn spine and small scratches here and there. It’s heavier than it looks, thick and full in her hands as she takes her time admiring the detailing of the cover, the artsy border. She glances over to Regina, Regina who is watching her very carefully, and then Emma turns back to the journal and opens it to the first page. There’s a small envelope waiting for her, but she doesn’t open that yet. Her eyes move to the date in the journal and she pauses, recognizing it from documents she’s seen only a few times.

 

Her heart jumps from her chest to her throat and her eyes quickly dart back to Regina’s. “That’s the day you...” She trails off with a smile as her eyes start to sting at the edges.

 

Regina nods. “That was the day I adopted Henry.”

 

“Wow,” Emma breathes out, turning back to the book in front of her. She scans a few lines, but she can see Regina’s fingers flexing out of the corner of her eye and decides to save reading the content of the journal until she’s alone. Instead, she flips through the pages full of Regina’s neat cursive and dates that go all the way until Henry was around four. Sometimes there’s just a day or two between entries, other times Regina had gone weeks without writing.

 

Regina lets out a breath that catches Emma’s attention. “Growing up, I had never done well with properly expressing how I felt when it came to the most important aspects of my life. A lot of that was due to the lack of a trusting confidant. Until recent years, I can’t say that I ever truly had one. Trusting another person with my thoughts, my feelings... Trusting someone requires a willingness to be vulnerable, and for so long that was something I was unwilling to be.

 

“I didn’t start journaling until I came here. Even writing everything down felt like I was revealing too much of myself. But, once I got Henry, I started to write regularly. There’s a lot in there about Henry’s development, things we’ve never discussed that I thought you might appreciate getting to know more about.” Regina smiles with hesitation. “But there’s also a lot in there that isn’t about Henry that I wanted to share with you. I wrote a lot about raising Henry and what that meant to me, but there’s also a lot of me working through thoughts on other matters that are more difficult to verbally share.”

 

Emma feels like she should say something, but she feels overwhelmed and can only focus on the look in Regina’s eyes for a moment. Regina’s choosing to be vulnerable with her, to share her thoughts and feelings, giving Emma a piece of her past as a gift. The weight of that is not something that goes unnoticed, the importance of the moment not missed.

 

She puts the journal on the arm of the sofa so she can do something that feels right for the moment, more right than trying to find words that match the significance of Regina not only giving her more of the life she missed out on with Henry but also giving Emma parts of Regina that have been considered completely private until this moment.

 

“Thank you for trusting me,” Emma says, and her whispered words fall directly against Regina’s ear as she twists her body and pulls Regina’s against her. She wraps her arms around Regina and swears she can hear one or both of their pulses rushing as Regina’s head presses against her ear and Regina returns the hug that feels tight and safe.

 

She isn’t expecting Regina to cling to her the way she does, doesn’t expect the breath that rushes against her neck and tickles her skin. But she enjoys the moment. So often she feels like she needs Regina, her presence, the sound of her voice to get rid of the ones in her head, and sometimes just her warmth. But the reverse happens less frequently. The times when Emma feels like Regina needs her don’t come often. She feels that now, needed and wanted, and she doesn’t let go of Regina, wants her to know that she’s there just like Regina is always there for her.

 

When Regina does pull back, there’s one of those almost laughs in her throat and warmth in her eyes. “Now...”

 

Emma tucks her hair behind her ears and lets out a loud breath. “Yes, your turn,” she says, leaning back against the sofa.

 

She notices the envelope she hadn’t opened that’s laying on top of Regina’s journal. As she waits for Regina to unwrap her gift, she opens the envelope, feeling a new rush of emotions rock her system when she finds herself looking at a picture of Regina with a bundle that is their son being cradled in her arms. A date on the back matches the first entry of the journal, a photograph from the first day of Henry’s life with Regina. Emma has to force herself to take a deep breath so she doesn’t get too overwhelmed by the storm of feelings inside of her.

 

She turns her head back to Regina just as the brunette is lifting the scrapbook out of the box she had placed it inside with tissue paper. Her gift needs no explanation and has already earned her a smile that takes over Regina's entire face—and Regina hasn’t even looked at what lays inside the book, only the cover.

 

The front cover is simple compared to what awaits Regina inside the scrapbook. In the middle of the cover, there’s a picture of the family from the summer picnic they had just before the changing of the season. Everybody’s in it, smiling, happy, and Regina’s right in the middle of it all. It had been one of many days like that, all which Emma has added to the scrapbook with little notes to go with the photos. Knowing how important Regina considers finding love and happiness with their family to be, she wanted to give her something that showcased that. There are candid shots and posed ones, photographs that Regina had taken herself, and plenty that she probably hadn’t known existed. Emma’s not sure if she overdid it on the splashes of color throughout, the stenciling, the little messages she left inside, but Snow had once told her before you could never do any harm when making a scrapbook. The memories are the part that matter, and Emma has filled the heavy book with memories that will last a lifetime.

 

Emma scoots closer to Regina and smiles when Regina stops on a page from sometime during the winter when they had taken Henry out for hot chocolate and then walked around until the sun had set and they were all so cold they had stayed sat in front of the fireplace until after eleven o’clock that night. The picture she’s looking at isn’t the one of her and Henry, though. It’s one that’s just Regina, a candid shot that she had snapped while the sun was setting behind the brunette. The snow had just started falling again and everything had looked beautiful. She had been about to take a picture of the sky, but then Henry made Regina laugh and Emma had known she needed to capture the moment.

 

“This one...” She runs her finger over her own face, tracing the curve of her smile. “This one’s—”

 

“Beautiful,” Emma whispers softly.

 

Regina’s breath shakes, almost quiet enough to be missed if she hadn’t quickly turned to look at Emma. She’s searching Emma’s face that way she does, looking into her eyes. Emma only smiles in response, not worried about what Regina will find.

 

She licks her lips and moves Regina’s hand from the scrapbook so she can flip a few pages forward. Regina only looks away when Emma starts to speak. “Not sure who even took this one, but it’s one of my favorites.”

 

It’s the two of them in Regina’s backyard, both of them mid laugh while looking at each other. Regina looks so happy that Emma’s heart feels full and heavy every time she looks at it. Emma doesn’t feel like the joy captured in the photograph even compares to what she had been feeling that day, though. It was one of those days that she had dreaded, a family thing she hadn’t wanted to be a part of, but she had shown up and enjoyed every moment of the night. But it was the time she had been alone with Regina, just talking while everyone did their own thing, that had been the best part.

 

“We look good together,” Emma says absently, smiling at the picture.

 

She’d left a note with the picture that had felt appropriate when she wrote it, but she isn’t as confident now. A lot of the comments she made in the scrapbook felt like they could be too much. It isn’t like it’s a secret how much Regina means to her, she just isn’t sure if constantly being told is something Regina’s okay with. She had decided to go for it, but she had also decided she wanted to give it to her in private in case it turned out she was right about it being too much. She still isn’t sure if her messages left along with the pictures was overdoing it.

 

She isn’t sure of anything until she feels the weight of Regina’s hand on her arm, her palm slowly sliding over Emma’s wrist, and then fingers searching until Regina can hold her hand with a strong grip. Emma squeezes back and doesn’t look away from the words she had written on the page, smiling to herself.

 

_The kind of person who makes you laugh at nothing is the kind of person you should hold onto._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand we're going to Wine Country now... well, on Saturday we'll be going. 
> 
> See y'all then xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the late update. I explained a few days ago on Twitter why I didn't update when I originally planned on doing so, but for those who don't follow me/didn't see it... I was sick and traveling without the internet, but now I am back.

The first time her alarm goes off, it’s really only meant to prepare her for the three that are going to follow. Sometimes Emma needs a little extra push to get up in the morning, and if she can trick her mind into believing she’s getting extra rest, well. But it’s four o’clock in the morning and there’s no tricking her body when absolutely no part of her believes being up before the sun is out is normal. When the alarm goes off, instead of laying on her back and waiting for the next one, Emma grumbles and decides to just get up, treating starting her morning like ripping off a Band-Aid—except getting out of bed hurts a whole lot more.

 

She doesn’t bother sitting and stretching first, just kind of rolls over until she reaches the edge of the bed, her hand and foot meeting the floor at the same time to keep her face from having a nasty collision with the hardwood. For the briefest moment, she considers just laying down on the floor and pretending she no longer exists, but she knows she can’t. She needs to shower and make sure she has everything she’ll need during the next week, and before she can even do that, she needs coffee. She needs a lot of coffee.

 

Emma exits the guest bedroom and, after a quick trip to the bathroom, makes her way down the stairs to the first floor, intending to put the coffee on and then go back upstairs for a shower. But when Emma reaches the kitchen, she finds that Regina has beat her there and is already at the coffee machine. She’s still dressed in her pajamas, her robe over the silk set, and her hair is messy from sleep. Emma pauses at the entryway for a moment just to look at Regina. She’s allowed to see versions of Regina that others are not, and sometimes she just needs to pause to appreciate that Regina can be unguarded and stripped down to her barest self when Emma’s around. There’s something powerful and admirable about Mayor Mills, the queen, the woman who stands tall and has bite to go with her bark. But there’s something very human about Regina when she’s like this, and Emma really likes that she gets to see her this way.

 

A quick glance over Regina’s shoulder tells Emma that she has been spotted, so she properly enters the room with a long hum, breathing in the scent of coffee that is already in the air. While Regina waits for the pot to fill from the steady drip, hiding a small yawn behind her hand, Emma takes down a mug for each of them. It’s all basic routine—coffee mugs, almond milk, sugar, and the chocolate syrup Regina keeps in her fridge for Emma. Everything is brought to the counter, not a word needed to be said because Emma knows exactly what is needed and which step follows the previous one.

 

When Regina yawns again, so does Emma, and then they glance each other’s way and share tired smiles. Emma tucks her hair behind her ears, careful not to let her fingers get caught in any possible tangles, and then turns so she’s facing the counter instead of leaning with her back against it. Regina’s watching her, observing her, and it reminds Emma of the same way she takes a few minutes during moments like this to look at Regina. When it’s quiet and still and just the two of them, everything feels lighter, and those moments make Emma curious. She wonders if Regina feels that same curiosity, is also thinking about how easy things are between them, how simple it all feels when so much is often heavy and full of complexities. Emma wonders if Regina also notices how easy everything feels when they’re together. But she doesn’t ask, doesn’t think she really needs to question it. She’s almost certain that Regina does notice it, that Regina also appreciates how there doesn’t need to be more than just the two of them being themselves when they’re together.

 

Regina turns away from Emma when the coffee's done. She fills their mugs with the steaming liquid and then watches as Emma puts sugar in both cups, two for Regina and one for herself. Regina smiles a little when Emma hands over the almond milk, and Emma returns it when Regina slides the chocolate syrup closer to Emma. Once they finish with the routine, they turn so their backs are against the counter. They breathe in the rich scent of the coffee almost in unison as mugs are lifted toward mouths, and then they take careful sips.

 

Emma sighs her appreciation and turns to look at Regina, grinning. Regina’s eyes close after her first taste, almost always do, and Emma can’t help but smile because of it. When Regina turns to look at her, Emma’s grin doesn’t fade, probably only grows into something larger and less tired than the first one had been.

 

“Good morning,” Emma finally says.

 

Regina makes one of those noises in her throat that is caught between a laugh and a heavy breath. “Good morning,” she repeats, voice slightly raspy, eyes full of warmth as she brings her coffee up for another taste.

 

Emma follows suit, sighing as she does so, her world momentarily narrowing down to the easy silence, the coffee, and Regina. She thinks this might be the best way to start her morning—it’s certainly the only thing that could make waking up at four o’clock in the morning not completely awful like it would have been had she been alone at her own apartment. The coffee can only do so much, though, has already been assigned the most difficult task of the morning: waking her up. But it’s the small things that make all the difference—the brush of Regina’s arm against her own when they both lift their mugs, the glances they share after every few sips,  the way Regina slowly becomes more alert and Emma can anticipate when she’ll hum or roll her neck. Alone she only has coffee, but with Regina she has companionship that awakens something deeper inside of her that coffee cannot reach. That _something_ that comes alive when she’s with Regina in these quiet moments has no name, but its incomparable to all other feelings, makes her feel content despite how much she loathes early mornings.

 

That feeling stays with Emma as she returns to the upper level of the house with her second cup of coffee, cradling the mug from the guest room to the bathroom. She turns on the shower water and gives her reflection a thoughtful look as she waits for the hot water to properly kick in. She’s made a habit of this, studying herself in the mirror in the morning. She doesn’t look for signs of aging or check for blemishes. Instead, every morning, Emma finds herself recalling the face that had stared back at her the day she had finally felt awake after months of feeling as though she was sleep-walking last year. She hadn’t looked like herself, and Emma still wonders how she had allowed herself to disappear so much that even her own reflection had felt like a stranger.

 

So, every morning, Emma reminds herself how wrong that person had felt, how hurt she had been beneath the false smiles, and how much she had ultimately hurt the ones most important to her—even if they had never told her that’s what she had been doing. She reminds herself these things and then reminds herself how different life has been the last year, looks into her own eyes and tells herself something that still feels strange to say aloud and sometimes doesn’t feel like the truth.

 

“You are not broken. You are not unworthy. You are not alone. You are strong, and you are loved.”

 

Just like every morning, Emma whispers the words to her reflection and takes a few deep breaths before smiling at herself. Sometimes the smiles don’t come easily, but lately they feel more natural, genuine. She remembers the family she has and how they’ve never given up on her. She remembers the son who loves her more than she ever thought could be possible. She remembers her mother hugging her tightly like she feels as though she’s been close to losing Emma too many times to let her go. She remembers her father and his presence when she’s not ready to talk but he’s there to listen when she is. She remembers Zelena and the friendship she had never seen coming but has grown to truly appreciate. She remembers Regina and the support she has given her, the unwavering belief that has pushed her through some of her most painful and difficult times. She remembers all that she has in life and smiling doesn’t feel as hard as it used to.

 

Her shower is short but relaxing once she stands under the hot spray. The steady stream releases the tension formed during sleep and the heat seeps down to her bones, simultaneously warming and loosening her body. Her mind is pleasantly clear from the time she steps into the shower to the moment she pulls on the soft baseball shirt she’s wearing with even softer pants. They have three flights, two layovers, and over twelve hours of being either on an airplane or in an airport—Emma plans to be as comfortable as possible for this.

 

Regina, however, doesn’t seem to be on the same wavelength as Emma. When they meet again, the first thing she notices are the heels Regina has paired with the dress that brushes her tense calves. Regina’s in her study, looking through her expansive collection of books, looking like she could have been pulled off the front cover of a magazine. While Emma had just thrown her hair into a low ponytail, in the same amount of time, Regina has styled her own into the perfection that it always is when she heads out of the house. She can only see Regina’s profile, but that’s enough for Emma to confirm that her makeup is as flawless as ever, the ruby of her lips drawing Emma’s eyes down to her mouth for longer than is probably appropriate to be staring at someone’s lips.

 

Emma darts her eyes away and stuffs her hands into the pockets of her gym pants. “So, is there a photoshoot before we go to the airport that you forgot to mention? Because...” Emma trails off with a low whistle, making Regina’s head snap to look at her, the book she had been holding falling down to the floor with a loud thud. Emma swoops in to pick it up, and then she holds it out for Regina to take it as she raises her brow, running her eyes over Regina once again before landing on her eyes and staying there.

 

“Excuse me?” Regina’s eyebrows pinch and her eyes are doing that deep searching thing. She takes the book from Emma and puts it back on the shelf, only looking away for a quick moment before her intense gaze is right back on Emma.

 

Emma rubs awkwardly at the back of her neck, trying not to fidget. She gestures to Regina’s outfit with a single finger, moving it up and down as she half-shrugs. “You’re kinda overdressed for a day of flying and walking through airports,” she points out, dropping her eyes back down to Regina’s stilettos that might have been made to kill a man but will probably do more harm to Regina’s own feet today. “I mean, you look good, but those shoes were _not_ made for walking.”

 

When Emma starts to grin, the tension in Regina’s shoulders dissipates and she smirks. “Believe it or not, these are rather comfortable.”

 

Emma scoffs. “You know what’s comfortable? Slippers. Jimmy Manolos aren’t comfortable. I don’t care how many hundreds of dollars they cost. There’s no such thing as a comfortable pair of heels.”

 

Regina’s amusement makes the small lines at the corners of her eyes deepen. “Jimmy Choos, dear. They’re called Jimmy Choos.”

 

“I know that,” she says like it should have been obvious she was joking—even though she honestly hadn’t realized she had combined two different brands until Regina pointed it out. Emma cares less about the label on her clothes and more about how they make her look and feel, so remembering the name of shoes she won’t ever buy isn’t really a priority for her. “The point was, you’re wearing feet coffins when we have an entire day of traveling ahead of us.”

 

Regina tries to hold it back, Emma can tell from the twitch at the corner of her mouth, but the rich sound of laughter is soon filling the air as Regina fondly looks at Emma, shaking her head. It’s short-lived, but even the small laughter leaves a lasting effect. As she walks away from Emma, deeper into the study, there’s a lightness to her that makes her look like she’s gliding on air. Her eyes catch Emma’s a moment after she’s stopped in front of a new section of books, and there’s tenderness in her expression that Emma finds herself unable to look away from.

 

There are moments every now and then where Emma’s heart races and her stomach feels messy with knots and tension. She doesn’t try analyzing what it means anymore because she had never been able to properly categorize it, couldn’t find a label to attach to the feelings. She knows only that Regina causes it, makes her dizzy like she’s forgotten how to breathe so there’s not enough oxygen going to her brain. It’s not something she dwells on but something she has accepted as part of being friends with Regina. She feels that now as Regina openly stares at her for a few heartbeats, feels that headrush and dip in her belly that she doesn’t think she’s ever felt from having anyone else just look at her.

 

Only when Regina looks away from her does Emma start to feel like her normal non-floaty self again. She clears her throat and finds something to focus on other than Regina, looking around the study until her eyes land on the open brochure on the coffee table. Curiosity instantly piqued, she goes over to the loveseat and takes what had presumably been Regina’s seat. The brochure is open to one of the activities the resort offers, wine blending, and she reads through the descriptions before deciding that it doesn’t sound too boring. She hasn’t really looked at the different activities, so she doesn’t know what they offer beyond the small details she had absorbed on Saturday when they’d been given the brochure. Wine Country just didn’t sound like it was packed with adventure, so she had focused on the fact that she would be with Regina and that would make the trip exciting.

 

“You wanna do this?” Emma wonders aloud.

 

There’s a pause before she can hear Regina’s steps and then feel the brunette leaning over her shoulder from behind the loveseat. She smells like coffee and complex layers of things that Emma cannot pinpoint, floral and sweet and a little dark. She hums when she sees what Emma is looking at, one of the soft ones that barely leaves her throat.

 

“Something to consider,” she answers simply. “You should bring that with you and look through it. I marked off a few things I thought you might enjoy.”

 

Emma nods and closes the book, standing while Regina straightens up as well. “I’ll throw it in my bag, look at it on the plane. Or you can just tell me what you wanted to do and...” She shrugs her shoulders a bit, trailing off as she yawns behind a cupped hand. “I’m probably going to sleep through the first flight, anyway.”

 

“Hmm. Speaking of sleeping,” Regina says while gathering a few books she had put aside—three too many for a person going on vacation, if you ask Emma. “Zelena should be here in less than ten minutes. Would you mind waking Henry up so he can be ready when she gets here? I still need to go through my checklist to make sure I’ve packed everything that was meant to be packed.”

 

Emma smiles because _of course_ Regina would have a checklist for packing. “Yeah, sure. Wake up the kid, get my stuff from the car, find some Advil or something in your medicine cabinet because I’m pretty sure I forgot to pack some... Got it.”

 

“Already packed, along with various other over the counter drugs that might be useful. I even have something for motion sickness.”

 

“Of course. I should have known that. When are you ever not prepared?”

 

Regina smirks a little. “There’s an extra copy of my checklist on the kitchen island if you need it, in case you have forgotten anything else. If I didn’t pack it and I have it, feel free to take whatever you need,” she tells Emma while leaving her in the study, her voice fading away with her last words.

 

Emma is out of the study a moment later. She takes the steps two at a time and grabs her phone and charger from the guest room before going to Henry’s. Waking up their teenaged son is nearly impossible, and Emma doesn’t know how Regina can simply tell him to get up and he does it. But Emma has seen it with her own two eyes, so she knows Regina can do in fifteen seconds what takes Emma a total of three minutes. There’s even a brief moment where she considers throwing cold water on him, but she refrains from doing so because she’s pretty sure that’s not exactly the best idea.

 

Once Henry’s up, Emma grabs Regina’s checklist from the kitchen and then heads outside to her car to get her suitcase. She only needs to scan the list—the full two pages—to know that whatever she could have forgotten, Regina has already packed. Regina has two full suitcases and a bag to carry on the plane with her, so Emma doesn’t think it’s possible Regina could have left anything important off her list. There was a time when everything Emma owned wouldn’t have even been enough to fill two suitcases, so she’s not exactly sure how much of what Regina has packed is actually necessary. But she doesn’t question this aloud when Regina’s the one who actually remembered sunscreen, first aid supplies, and all the important stuff Emma didn’t even think about.

 

She’s surprised that Henry packs more like herself than Regina when he comes down with a duffel bag that’s stuffed with clothes that aren’t even folded properly. She expected he’d have his own suitcase to bring to her parents’ house, something neatly packed like Regina would do it. But it looks like he just randomly threw a section from each drawer of clothes into the bag and called it a day. Regina’s disapproving look when they all meet in the foyer is the only thing that makes him fix it, plopping down heavily on the sofa and pouring out the bundled up clothes and taking his time to do it properly. He finishes just as Regina announces that Zelena is out front.

 

Henry and Emma both grab one of Regina’s suitcases and head outside while Regina locks up. It’s just after five o’clock in the morning and the fresh air is cool against her skin. According to her weather app, it won’t be warming up much in Maine but she and Regina can expect temperatures in the eighties for most of their trip, cool nights to go with the warm days. After the long winter they’ve had, she’s more than ready for an entire week of sunshine and proper spring days—unlike what the Northeast has been offering lately, which has been an occasional warm day surrounded by long stretches of rain and cool weather.

 

“Ma, you gotta promise me something,” Henry says after they’re a few yards away from the front door.

 

Emma glances at him quickly before opening the gate and letting him out first. He sounds serious and she doesn’t know if she should be worried about something. “What is it?”

 

He stops them before they reach the car so they’re still alone. He smiles at her tiredly, looking as though he could fall asleep standing up beside her. She can relate. “Make sure Mom has a good time,” he tells her like its the most important thing he’s ever going to say to her.

 

Emma’s heart warms as she gives him a single nod and lets go of the handle of her suitcase to squeeze his shoulder tightly. “Of course,” she tells him.

 

“And you too. Don’t let this trip be a waste, okay?”

 

Emma feels like she’s missing something because he sounds so serious, like there’s more to what he’s saying but he won’t share it. But she knows he won’t spill, so she doesn’t ask for any explanations. She can only assure him with another nod of her head as she glances over her shoulder to see Regina walking their way. A smile stretches at her lips automatically as Regina nears. “Don’t worry. We’re going to make the best of our time over there,” she promises, already knowing they will. The closer they get to beginning their vacation, the more Emma can tell it’s exactly what they’ve been needing.

 

“Good,” Henry says, and then she can hear him walking away while she waits for Regina to catch up to her.

 

“Everything okay?” Regina asks, looking from Henry’s retreating form to Emma. Her brow raises ever so slightly, that look that asks if she needs to worry about anything.

 

Emma decides that whatever strange feeling she’s picking up from Henry is nothing worth worrying about, probably just her trying to read too deeply into something that is simply a kid wanting his mothers to be happy. He’s amazingly thoughtful like that, always wanting the best for them and fighting for them to have it even when they sometimes neglect themselves for the sakes of others.

 

“Yeah. All good. You ready?”

 

Regina pulls the handle of her small carry-on and gives the house one last look. “I’m ready,” she tells Emma with a small smile, her free hand moving to Emma’s back to guide her towards the car so they can leave. “We have a long day ahead of us. Let’s get going.”

 

The long day starts with goodbyes from her parents and Henry when they drop him off at the house, Zelena telling them ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t’ with a wink that makes Regina roll her eyes as they remove the luggage from the trunk, and continues with flight after flight, Emma spending more time in airports than she ever has before. It’s exhausting and she gets restless—which makes Regina snappy. By the time they’re _finally_ in California, Emma behind the wheel of the rental car, neither of them are in the mood for conversation so they let the radio fill the silence as the wind blows in through the open windows.

 

It’s only a little after four, but her body doesn’t recognize the difference because of timezones and it feels much later. She’s already thinking about dinner and wondering if they should stop at a grocery store on their way to the ranch to grab some snacks or something, already prepared for the prices she’ll find on the menus of the restaurant and lounge and thinking it might be best if they have a little bit of food on hand. She glances over to the right, getting ready to ask Regina what she thinks, but Regina’s head is against the window and even with her sunglasses on, Emma can see that her eyes are closed. Regina’s been cranky for hours, but she finally looks like she’s relaxed, the tension that had been in her features completely gone. So Emma decides not to disturb the peace and forgets about stopping at a grocery store, deciding it can wait until after they’ve settled and seen in person what the ranch has to offer.

 

After driving past a couple of small vineyards, the navigation system announces they’ve reached their destination. They’re at the front entrance of exactly what the place is advertised as: a luxury ranch. There are tall trees that line either side of the road and cacti mixed with bunches of flowers which provide bursts of colors amongst the greens of the dark leaves and bushes. Emma drives slowly down the path, following the signs that lead to the parking area and the reception building, her eyes sweeping over the landscape and taking in everything all at once.

 

It’s a lot, simplicity of a ranch but extraordinary in its own right. The farther she drives, the more she sees—the artistically designed roofs of the private lodges that hide behind trees, the mountains off in the distance, the picturesque forest that surrounds them. She’d read about the hiking trails and the incredible views from the top of the hills, the way the resort focuses on being a part of nature instead of disturbing it and taking away from its natural beauty, but it’s like nothing she could have imagined seeing it in person. She’d grown an appreciation for city life while in Boston and in New York, but there is still something she finds calming about life away from all of that.

 

Regina groans and stirs in her seat when Emma hits a bump in the road, and Emma reaches over instinctively and rubs her hand over Regina’s arm to soothe her. Regina shifts again, but this time it’s with a soft sound that’s close to being a moan, a purr of contentment as she pulls away from slumber. Emma leaves her hand on Regina’s arm until the other woman stretches and it falls away. She turns to look at Regina for a brief moment, gives her a smile when she notices Regina’s facing her while she does the best she can to loosen her limbs in the cramped space of the front seat.

 

“Sleep well?” Emma asks, turning back to the road. She can see the parking lot just ahead of them.

 

A long hum fills Regina’s throat. “Surprisingly, yes, I did. I must have been more exhausted than I originally believed myself to be to fall asleep while you were driving.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes, but there’s a little grin playing at her mouth. Regina says Emma drives recklessly and always _—always—_ has something to say about her driving. Emma’s pretty sure Regina just does it out of habit now. She doesn’t even fight Emma on who gets to drive, usually hands over the keys even when they take Regina’s car.

 

“Yeah, well, as long as you’re done biting my head off over every little thing, I’m glad you got some sleep. You needed it.”

 

“Don’t be so dramatic. I was not that bad.” Regina pulls down the sun visor and removes her glasses before reaching behind her to get her purse from the backseat.

 

“Not that bad,” Emma repeats with an exaggerated eye roll and a scoff. “You were a sarcastic asshole from the moment you buckled your seatbelt on the third plane to the second your eyes closed after we got in the car.” Emma drives into an empty spot and parks the car, turning to look at Regina once she’s finished. “You’re lucky I like you. Anyone else and I would have been a lot less understanding and probably done something stupid that would have gotten us both kicked off the plane for disorderly conduct.”

 

There’s a hint of a smirk when Regina places her lipstick and eyeliner on her lap. She’s getting ready to touch up her makeup, but first, she turns to Emma and silently looks at her for a moment. Emma doesn’t shy away from the attention, doesn’t flinch when Regina reaches across the space between them to brush loose hair behind Emma’s ear. It’s something she’s been doing a lot of, and Emma has no idea what’s going on in her mind when she does it, but her touch is always light and there’s something hesitant about the gesture despite how normal it’s starting to feel to Emma. Her fingers linger, sliding down from Emma’s ear to her neck, just her fingertips, and when Emma shivers slightly, Regina swallows hard enough for it to be heard in the quiet car.

 

Regina licks her lips when she pulls away and lets out a slow breath, turning back to the mirror in the sun visor without saying a word. Emma doesn’t say anything either, doesn’t rush to get their things from the trunk. It doesn’t feel like a time for words, doesn’t feel like the kind of silence that needs to be broken. So Emma just sits and watches the easy motions of Regina’s hands as she carefully wipes away old makeup and replaces it with the new.

 

It’s nearly five minutes later when the two of them exit the car and the bright rays of the warming sun greets them. Regina’s head tilts back and the edges of her eyes crinkle while they squint, the light playing in the russet and making her skin glow like glimmering gold. Emma folds her arms over the top of the car and unashamedly continues watching Regina, realizes that sometimes she really can’t stop herself from these silent moments where she feels like there’s so much of Regina to take in and not enough time to do it. Regina doesn’t ever seem to have a problem with it, with the way Emma feels the need to memorize the curve of a smile or the wrinkle of a brow. Regina actually seems to encourage it—or at least that’s what it feels like she’s doing when she’ll take longer than necessary to complete whatever task it is she’s in the middle of that Emma lets draw her in.

 

There had been a time when she had thought it might be considered intrusive. The moment Regina would catch her watching, she would turn away. She would feel guilty, not just because she had been caught but because of how much enjoyment she received from the simple act of watching. She’d always been an observer—to learn to mimic other people’s actions to fit in, to figure out their tells and what made them tick, to anticipate what their next move was when she was a bail bondsperson. But observing Regina is about more than discovery and unlayering. It’s something that feels more like admiring than anything else she can call it. And at one point, Emma had believed that was something she needed to stop. But she no longer feels that way, has caught the uprise at the corner of Regina’s mouth as she smirked when catching Emma watching her too many times to feel as though Regina considers the attention unwelcoming.

 

“That's some look you got there. I remember when my husband still looked at me like that.”

 

Both Emma and Regina jump at the sound of the aged, lightly accented southern voice that sounded thick with history and raspy from too many years of smoking. Everything had been so quiet that the intrusion made Emma’s heart beat double time as she spun around, jaw slackened as a burst of air left her mouth in a quiet gasp.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, darlings,” the woman apologizes quickly, smiling as she looks between them. “I didn’t mean to startle y’all. You all just looked so caught up in the moment, didn’t think you’d hear me approaching even if I were wearing a bell around my neck.”

 

Regina recovers before Emma does and moves to the front of the car where the woman with the friendly smile is still grinning from ear to ear. Regina slips into the Mayor Mills mode faster than Emma can even make sense of why the stranger was comparing them to herself and her husband, the brunette holding out a hand to shake as she introduces both herself and Emma, prompting Emma to join her.

 

“Well, Regina, Emma, it’s a pleasure to meet you both. On behalf of the entire team here at the ranch, I’d like to welcome you to what we here like to think of as a little taste of paradise.” She waves her hands about as she speaks and gestures with her clipboard. “I’m Suzanne, and I’ll be handling everything from checking you in to making sure you’re situated and satisfied. Martin will be here any second now to gather your luggage for you and bring it to your lodge while we take care of business and I give you a mini tour of the common areas and tell you a little bit about the ranch.”

 

“That sounds lovely,” Regina says, smiling politely while Emma just nods along before stepping away to get the suitcases out of the trunk.

 

It doesn’t take long for Martin to arrive with a golf cart that Emma helps him load despite his insistence that he can handle it on his own. It’s a force of habit. When she can take care of something on her own, she has always been more reluctant to let others help her.

 

Once he drives away, she turns to find Regina in a deep conversation with Suzanne as they wait for her to join so they can begin the check-in process. Emma grabs her water bottle from the front of the car and then locks the door, slipping the keys into the pocket of her gym pants and then giving the waiting women a nod to signal she’s ready.

 

“So Regina tells me this is your first trip together,” Suzanne says, none too subtly suggesting Emma pick up where Regina left off—even though Emma has absolutely no idea where that would be since she hasn’t been listening to their conversation.

 

“Um.” Emma clears her throat, glancing at Regina for help, not sure what to say. Regina’s not looking her way though, is busy taking in their surroundings while they cross the lot. “Well.” She shrugs her shoulders a little. “I guess you can say that. It’s our first proper vacation.” When all other trips were either to other realms or had something to do with magic, she thinks her answer is a pretty good one.

 

“How delightful. I may be a little biased, but I must say you couldn’t have picked a better location.”

 

“Actually, we didn’t pick it. Our son and my mother did. The trip was a Mother’s Day gift from them and the rest of our family,” Emma shares, uncapping her water bottle and taking a small drink from it.

 

“Right, right, right.” Suzanne nods. “Mary Margaret, was it? Friendly woman. She’s the one who set everything up for the two of you.”

 

“Everything?” Emma questions. If there’s a bit of tightness in her voice, Suzanne doesn’t pick up on it.

 

Suzanne’s response is vague and only makes Emma’s stomach twist into knots. “Oh, you’ll see shortly.” She winks and brushes graying bangs from in front of her face. “We like to make sure all of our guests feel welcomed when they stay with us. We have a short questionnaire after reservations are made and confirmed to find out more about your reason for traveling, any preferences you might have...” She trails off. “For instance, anniversaries and honeymoons are common here. We try to provide that extra touch of romance to help make your stay memorable.”

 

Emma glances at Regina again. Regina smiles at her like she’s trying to assure her of something, but Emma can’t tell what. Suzanne looks between them and continues on, leading them inside the reception building, cold air hitting them as they walk through the double doors.

 

“You’ll find that your lodge, while meeting the requirements for the indulgence package that was selected, will also be personalized for the two of you.”

 

“The indulgence package?” Regina questions with a lifted brow, intrigued.

 

“Oh, yes.” She smiles as she removes a page from her clipboard for each of them, glossy like the pages of the booklet Henry had given them. “You still have to select which day you wish to have the masseuses come to your room for your private messages—very romantic, I might add—but Mary Margaret has taken care of a lot of the details for you already.”

 

“Of course she has,” Regina says, but the eye roll comes with a touch of warmth that makes her lips curve upward into a small smile.

 

Emma doesn’t comment on any of it, is still stuck on the fact that her mom has set up stuff for them and she doesn’t even know what any of that means. Private massages? An indulgence package? Wasn’t paying for them to come here enough already?

 

The light touch of fingers against the back of her hand makes her eyes quickly drop down to where Regina’s taking her hand into her own and is now rolling her thumb in small circles. She looks up and finds Regina smiling at her, soft and questioning. They’ve stopped just outside of an office, and although she’s been moving on autopilot for a minute or two, she now realizes that Suzanne has stepped away from them.

 

“Private massages?” Emma whispers with disbelief.

 

Regina lets out a slow breath and rubs tighter circles with the pad of her thumb. “What’s done is done, Emma. Let’s just...” Regina trails off and doesn’t finish the thought, bites the corner of her lip and furrows her brow slightly.

 

Emma turns her hand around in Regina’s and gives it a squeeze, stepping closer so she’s once again in Regina’s line of sight. “You’re right,” she says, because she knows she is, knows there’s no reason to freak out about prices and Snow overdoing things when it’s already been done. Regina sounded excited about the spa, and Emma doesn’t want to ruin that for her. And if she can just accept the gift, she thinks she’ll also enjoy it—in small amounts at a time. “We’re supposed to be enjoying this, so let’s just do that.”

 

“Emma.” Regina looks up to look into Emma’s eyes, but before she can let out whatever she was about to say, Suzanne returns, dangling keys between them and making Regina take a step away from Emma.

 

Emma frowns when Regina drops her hand, but it feels ridiculous to miss the softness of Regina’s hand in her own, so she silently follows behind the other two women while they talk and Suzanne goes on and on about how amazing the ranch is. Emma’s suddenly feeling tired and not much in the mood for conversation, her internal battery on empty, so she doesn’t try to engage. She knows Regina will fill her in, and she’d rather not spend the rest of their walk trying to pretend her enthusiasm comes close to that which she can tell Suzanne is used to from the guests who stay at the ranch.

 

The walk is long, but they eventually find themselves outside of a lodge with large windows, a glass door that faces their own little space of the forest, and a tall wood wall several yards away that provides privacy. Regina surveys their surroundings with a raised brow and hums thoughtfully, and Emma follows her lead as she makes her way to the door. Regina’s heels click and clack against the stone path, and it’s that little bit of familiarity that keeps Emma from being overwhelmed. Hands buried deep in her pockets, she doesn’t comment on anything with more than her own eyebrow lifts and little throat noises. She’s more interested in knowing what Regina thinks of everything.

 

What Regina’s thinking remains a mystery to her, though. Regina unlocks the door and Emma is prepared to follow her in, but she ends up bumping into Regina’s back when the brunette suddenly stops. Her hands reach for Regina’s hips to steady them. They both gasp—but when Emma looks over Regina’s shoulder, she gets the feeling that Regina’s reaction was not about the small collision but what her wide eyes are staring at.

 

“Whoa,” Emma breathes out, looking down to the rose petals that had been sprinkled down to create a path from the door to somewhere that was not visible from the doorway. Despite the sun still being out, with the blinds all shut, there is only a warm glow filling the room from the fireplace. The lodge itself, from what she can see, is all open space and soft beiges and expensive-looking decor, but the trail of red petals kind of demands attention and makes everything else disappear.

 

Unmoving, her back pressed against Emma’s chest, Regina finally clears her throat after a long stretch of silence and carefully turns her head to look at Emma. She’s attempting to keep her expression blank, Emma can tell, but Emma can see something akin to fear swimming in her eyes as she seeks out Emma’s.

 

“Um.” Emma feels awkward, like maybe she should be saying something but she’s too confused and unsettled to figure out what that something is. “I don’t know what Snow said, but...”

 

Regina waits for her to continue, but when she realizes Emma’s out of words to say, she straightens her back and steps away, making Emma’s hands fall heavily against herself. She steps over the rose petals and then continues into the lodge with an air of indifference about her as she drops the keys down on a table. Emma doesn’t enter yet, is still standing outside of the lodge because her feet refuse to move. Suzanne’s comment about the private massages being a romantic choice repeats in the back of her mind as she takes in all that she can see, wonders if something Snow had said had led whomever had done the questionnaire with her to believe Regina and she were there as more than just friends escaping the real world for a week.

 

Emma huffs out a breath. Regina’s unsettled and trying to hide it, but Emma can tell, and she wouldn’t be a very good friend if she just stood there and did nothing. Regina’s always there to settle her nerves when something is bothering her, so she’s going to have to push away the strange feeling that’s tumbling about in her stomach and all the questions she has so she can be there for Regina.

 

She finally walks in and immediately toes off her sneakers, not wanting to dirty the clean rugs. When the door shuts, Regina turns around to look towards it, and Emma offers her a half-smile. “There’s wine,” she says, walking in and pointing to the table in the living room she had noticed. “That’s nice. I’m guessing part of their welcoming.” There’s fondue and fruit and wine, and Emma goes over to it and immediately pours them both a glass while Regina silently watches her.

 

Emma doesn’t look around too much, doesn’t focus on how the petals lead to the bedroom—the only bedroom, with the one bed, the bed that she had already known they would have to share but now seems like something they shouldn’t talk about. Instead, Emma puts their wine glasses down on the coffee table that’s surrounded by a sofa and two armchairs and then goes back to bring the fondue and fruit platter. It’s too quiet in the room, and not the kind of quiet that Emma likes, so she does another sweep of the room until she finds the speaker system she had known came standard in every lodge. She brings her phone over to it and selects a playlist at random, caring less about what’s playing and more about making everything feel less awkward.

 

When something with a heavy beat and low vocals starts, she smiles and spins around, looking hopefully at Regina, wanting her to leave the spot she’s been stuck at since she walked in. “We are officially on vacation,” she tells her, and she realizes she’s not faking the excitement that slips into her voice. “No responsibilities or danger to worry about. It’s just you, and me, and a bottle of wine that I’m pretty sure is going to taste ten times better than any I’ve ever brought over for dinner.”

 

That earns her the tiniest of smiles. Regina’s shoulders relax. Emma’s grin grows.

 

She moves over to the sofa and contemplates opening the doors that lead to the patio, but she decides against it and picks up their glasses instead. “So...” She tilts one towards Regina and raises her brow.

 

Regina looks at Emma thoughtfully, and every second that passes makes the weird fluttering in Emma’s belly intensify. But then Regina smiles at her properly and everything sorta settles. “I’m going to strangle your mother when we get back home,” she promises, letting go of whatever had kept her immobile.

 

Emma laughs a little, holding out Regina’s wine for her. “I won’t stop you.”

 

Regina takes the wine, the tips of fingers brushing softly before Emma pulls back. Regina brings the glass to her nose as she swirls it around the bowl of the stemware. As she breathes in the aroma, she continues to look at Emma, like she has questions she wants to ask but won’t. Before Emma can try to figure out what those questions might be, Regina lets her eyes fall shut and takes a small sip, humming as she savors the taste.

 

Emma doesn’t stare. Well, she does—but she always finds herself watching Regina in these kind of moments. The fact that her heart seems to beat three times too fast and her face feels warm doesn’t mean anything, though. Definitely not.

 

Regina’s eyes slowly open and there’s bliss where uncertainty had been, and just the sight of that makes Emma’s breath hitch. She tries to hide it behind her own wine glass, takes a mouthful of her wine, but she’s not sure she’s successful. Regina’s watching her too carefully, contemplating something, and Emma feels like she’s made of glass and Regina can see every single bit of her.

 

Regina licks her lips and looks towards the door that’s ajar, her head tilted slightly. “They’re just flowers, right?”

 

Emma turns to look as well, understanding that Regina is trying to take away from the awkwardness of walking into a room with a romantic atmosphere with your best friend just like Emma had been trying to do. She nods her head and drinks from her glass, lets the taste of the wine coat her tongue and cheeks before swallowing slowly. “Exactly. Just flowers.”

 

Regina nods once, and Emma absently drinks the rest of her wine.

 

Something about the way Regina’s looking at them, something about the look in her eyes that Emma doesn’t really understand, makes Emma wonder if they’re really _just_ flowers, if anything is ever _just_ anything with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the patience and for reading and I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. Comments are always appreciated (even when I take forever to respond to them).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been uncertain about this chapter since I started writing it, and I'm still not sure I like any of it. So I'm completely trusting Kez when she says it's good. Meaning, if it's not, we attack at dawn! (kidding. I take full responsibility if it's terrible)

Emma’s waiting for Regina to finish in the bathroom so she can have her turn in the shower. They had decided to stay in for their first night, both of them tired from the long day of travel and preferring to have an early night. They had finished the bottle of wine and the fondue, and then after Regina unpacked—and Emma explained why unpacking for a week was a waste of time—they ordered salads with grilled chicken and planned for the next day.

 

Emma had offered to let Regina get ready for the night first, and once she was alone, she had finally entered the bedroom she had been avoiding. Like most of the lodge, muted colors and picture windows are featured in the room. There are wood nightstands with lamps on either side of the inviting bed, fluffy pillows piled at the top that look like the type which allow you to sink right in. The smoky scent of the burning wood in the fireplace has filled the air and mixed with something light and slightly floral, familiar, perhaps lilac or lavender. It’s undeniably relaxing and warm, and she subconsciously breathes in deeply as she stands at the foot of the bed, staring at it with slowly blinking eyes.

 

Regina had cleared the rose petals from the bedroom while she unpacked, but Emma had glanced into the room before they were gone and the memory of them was enough to make it feel as though they were still there. The vibrant reds against the fresh ivory bedding, the heart formed in the middle of the bed—if not for the implication, she would have thought it was kind of nice. Maybe. It’s an unoriginal gesture that shows no sign of actually knowing what someone likes, but as far as generic goes, roses aren’t that bad. However, it had only been overwhelming and awkward, so she’s glad that Regina got rid of them and their bed was just a normal bed now.

 

Except, it still doesn’t _feel_ like a normal bed. That’s probably why she can’t stop staring at it like she’s waiting for something to happen. She hadn’t even given sleeping with Regina a second thought when she realized they would be sharing a bed. She had immediately noticed the lack of double beds in the brochure and knew that it was just another thing nobody had considered asking if they were okay with before booking the trip. She had briefly wondered if Regina would be comfortable sharing a bed, but Regina hadn’t mentioned their sleeping arrangements any of the times they discussed the trip. If anything, Emma had known there would be a sofa that she could sleep on to give Regina space. But Emma herself hadn’t had any qualms about sharing.

 

Growing up, sleeping with other people had been a necessity at times. It was just a part of her life. Shared beds, shared spaces, nothing ever really being just for Emma... You grow to accept these kinds of things when you move from home to home and never know what to expect, never have a space for yourself because you’re the new one and everybody has already claimed what you’re being told you have a right to. She’d lived at one house for a summer where a dog had taken over her bed and she spent seven weeks clinging to the edge of the mattress because it was all the room she had been allowed. So, a king sized bed with only one other person is nothing to complain about, especially when Regina actually bathes and won’t bully her like some of the foster siblings she had had when she was younger.

 

It’s the awkwardness from earlier that makes her feel like the bed is too small for her and Regina now, like there won’t be enough space, enough room between the two of them. She had thought the feeling would pass on its own once they were over the surprise of walking into the room that looked as though it was set up for a romantic evening, but it hasn’t. The tension in Regina’s body and the silence that had felt heavy, the way it felt as though Regina couldn’t have gotten away from her fast enough when they entered, made Emma wonder if maybe sharing a bed was a bad idea, if it would be weird and awkward. Again, Emma had found herself wondering if Regina would be uncomfortable sharing her space with Emma, and that’s why she can’t seem to shake whatever it is that’s making her feel so unsettled and unsure.

 

“I’m not claiming to be an expert, but I think you’re supposed to lie down on it, not stare at it all night.”

 

Emma doesn’t jump at the sound of Regina’s voice. She had sensed Regina even though her mind had been far away from the bedroom and her thoughts had been loud with worries. She does, however, shiver slightly from the breath that tickles her neck as Regina speaks over her shoulder. She can feel the heat pouring off Regina’s body from her shower and smell the natural body wash she uses that reminds Emma of flower fields and rainy days. She inhales deeply before sighing, not completely certain it would be impossible to become intoxicated from the scent alone.

 

“How’s the water pressure?” she asks instead of responding directly to what Regina had said.

 

Regina doesn’t answer right away, probably because Emma’s question is random and obviously meant to change the topic, but after a moment she lets out a pleased hum and moves from behind Emma. “Incredible. You should stop thinking so hard and go take a shower. It might help clear your mind.”

 

Emma looks over her shoulder to where Regina is standing in her towel, looking through the drawer of the nightwear she brought with her. Emma can’t help but smile a little as she watches her. It’s a something she’s never gotten a chance to witness before, the way Regina picks out one thing, holds it up to herself, and then folds it back neatly and decides against it. It’s completely different from Emma’s usual nightly routine. Emma usually just pulls out a random shirt and some underwear, pants or shorts sometimes, and calls it a day.

 

“Quick question: do we have a dress code for bed or something? That's the fifth thing you've deemed unfit.” She smirks a little when Regina’s eyes roll heavenward. “And how many options did you pack? You’re just sleeping, you know? You don’t have to go all out for bedtime. Nobody’s going to see you.”

 

“You will,” Regina says, almost absently as she continues the same steps: unfold clothing item, hold it up to herself, scrunch up face, fold to put away.

 

Emma shakes her head and crosses over to the oak chest. She leans her elbow on the top and Regina glances up at her with a raised brow. Emma moves Regina’s hand aside and looks into the drawer, not at all surprised that Regina’s packed enough nightwear to last at least double the number of nights they’ll be in California. She doesn’t really look through the drawer, can feel Regina’s eyes looking at her a little too intensely, but she pulls out something Regina hasn’t already decided against and holds it up to dangle between them with a curved finger. It’s a black camisole, silky satin with a hint of lace detailing, and sexier than Emma had expected when she pulled it out—but she’s already holding it up to be taken, and Regina’s the one who packed it, so.

 

“There,” Emma decides. “This should work.”

 

Regina is looking between Emma and the camisole with a weird look, but she takes it from Emma’s hand and doesn’t bother with the four steps every other choice had needed to go through. “I didn’t know I required assistance picking out my sleepwear.”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders and looks back down to the drawer, wondering what goes with the top but not looking through the neatly folded clothes. “I didn’t know what I thought about what you sleep in mattered to you, but here we are,” she says. And if her cheeks grow warm, she’s sure that can be blamed on the warmth of the room.

 

Regina’s silent for too many seconds, so Emma glances up to look at her through her lashes. But Regina’s staring at a spot on the wall with a look of contemplation and doesn’t meet her gaze. It makes Emma want to get inside her head and see her thoughts. At the same time, she’s not sure that’s a good idea. Contemplative looks can mean anything, and Emma knows from experience that some thoughts are better left a mystery from others.

 

“Well.” Emma’s teeth pull on the inside of her cheek and bite down. “I should go shower, and you should probably get dressed.”

 

Regina agrees with a nod.

 

Quickly grabbing the things she’ll need, she turns and leaves the room to give Regina privacy to get dressed. She shuts herself away in the spacious bathroom with a gentle click of the door and drops her things next to the sink. The air is still thick with the scent of Regina’s body wash and the heat from her shower, the floor warm beneath her bare feet. It’s a pleasant feeling, one she revels in as she strips down to her underwear and turns the water on for her shower. As she lets the steam build up, she looks around the bathroom and rolls her shoulders around to loosen them up.

 

The mirror that stretches across the double vanity had almost been clear, but the fog and steam soon starts to hide the reflection of the oversized soaking tub behind Emma. She’s sure that two of her can fit inside the bathtub comfortably when she turns on her heels to face it—but then she realizes that’s probably the point. There are unused candles scattered around the bathroom and, she imagines, if she were to turn the lights off, the glass door and floor to ceiling windows would allow the soft glow of the moon to fill the room. Understanding the appeal of being able to have a bubble bath or a long soak to unwind, she can see how the large tub might entice someone. She figures it would only be more enjoyable sharing that with someone special.

 

She doesn’t think too long about shared baths or the inviting intimacy, doesn’t let herself imagine what the would be like, not even with the faceless person her mind conjures up. She instead lets her eyes continue their journey around the room, stopping when she notices the basket with the purple bow on the handle that’s filled with bottles that have labels with the name of the ranch on it. They’re most likely from the spa, something she’s not sure comes in every lodge or is part of the package that had been chosen. Either way, they’re certainly better than the tiny bottles that are just enough for approximately one and a half uses from the kind of hotels she’s used to.

 

She opens a few with a curious raise of her brow, sniffing them, unsurprised by how amazing they smell. She doesn’t expect anything less than perfection from a place like this. Her personal standards might not be high, but she’s sure the same cannot be said for most who choose the ranch as their vacation spot.

 

She places the basket down on the edge of the tub and finishes removing her clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor before stepping into the shower and closing the glass door behind her. She sighs instantly, hot water beating down against her body in the utmost pleasurable way, the steam in the air fragrant with the scent Regina had left behind. She closes her eyes and lets the water work its magic, agreeing with Regina that the water pressure is incredible.

 

After the exhausting day, not much compares to being able to take a long shower and let everything wash away and disappear down the drain, nothing like feeling the tension leave her body as she melts under the hot spray of the shower. It’s one of life’s simple pleasures that she’s forever grateful for, and she lingers for as long as her body can handle the high temperature of the steaming water that turns her skin red from its heat.

 

She’s toweling off when she notices the outdoor shower she had forgotten about. She wraps her towel around herself and grabs the brush from the vanity, slowly brushing her wet hair as she walks over to the door that leads outside. It’s dark and the stars fill the sky in a way they just don’t in Storybrooke, a sheet of darkness with twinkling light that looks almost dreamlike, unreal. She unlocks the door before she twists the handle and, shivering as the cool night air hits her warmed skin, steps outside.

 

Just like how the patio is a continuation of the living room with the double-sided fireplace, the small space with the outdoor shower feels like a continuation of the bathroom. Even though she stands outside, the tall walls made of wood provide privacy. Even though she knows the next lodge is not too far away, the way they design the lodges makes it feel as though they’ve escaped to a place that’s all their own and nobody else surrounds them. She admits that she likes that as she lets her head fall back so she’s looking at the stars, a cool breeze making her shiver.

 

She decides that she’s going to have at least one shower under the stars while they’re there. It’s an opportunity she’s never had before and she’s made a promise to herself—and Henry—to enjoy herself. Henry had said not to waste the trip, and she still thinks there’s something she’s missing, but she also knows that not taking advantage of all that has been done for her and Regina would be considered a waste. And Emma knows better than to let things go to waste when it’s a privilege to have them in the first place.

 

She stays outside long enough to take a few deep breaths, pulling in the earthy air, and then she walks back into the bathroom and closes the door behind her. It’s louder than she expected it would be when it shuts, and the noise draws Regina’s attention to the bathroom. She can hear her name being called on the other side of the bathroom door and crosses over to it, pulling it open so that she doesn’t have to raise her voice to respond.

 

“Sorry about the noise. I was checking out the shower outside,” she says, leaning against the doorjamb and brushing her hair. “The door’s heavier than it looks.”

 

Regina is sitting against the headboard with a book open on her lap. There was a hint of concern in her eyes at first, but that disappears when she sees that everything is all right. She gives Emma one of her almost smiles and nods, looking Emma over with an impassive expression. Emma doesn’t move from where she stands, continues brushing her hair until it feels as though they’ve been staring at each other for hours without saying a word. It’s not uncomfortable, not even unnerving, but she figures she should put on some clothes and properly enter the bedroom at some point.

 

“Did you see the basket on the tub?” she questions as she disappears out of sight, gathering her dirty clothes from the floor and bringing them to where her nightwear is waiting for her beside the sink.

 

“I did,” Regina answers from the bedroom. “I didn’t look through it, but I did notice there was an oatmeal scrub on the top. You should use it. It’s a good exfoliator.”

 

Emma looks over her shoulder with narrowed eyes, but she knows Regina can’t see her. “Are you trying to say I have bad skin or something?”

 

“Yes, dear, terrible skin. That’s exactly what I was trying to say. I’m glad you picked up on that,” Regina returns dryly. And if an eye roll ever made a sound, Emma’s pretty sure it would sound like the tone Regina had just used.

 

Emma feels the corner of her mouth twitch, an almost smile appearing. “Thank you for your concern, but I prefer my oatmeal in a bowl with lots of cinnamon, not on my face. That’s more your speed than mine.” She pulls her shirt over her head as she adds, “And for the record, my skin is super soft—you should know that by now.”

 

Regina’s only response is a hum at first, but after a long stretch of silence, she speaks. “Bring it here and let me see it.”

 

Emma’s just finished getting dressed, wearing a pair of cotton boyshorts with a tank top. It feels too warm for more, and even though she’s never slept in a bed with Regina while wearing so little—not that they’ve ever actually slept together in a bed before—her lack of clothing is nothing new. If it bothers Regina, she’ll put on a pair of shorts, but she’s most comfortable like this.

 

“Come get it. I don’t know what an oatmeal scrub looks like,” Emma says, which is really just her being lazy as she pulls herself up to sit on the counter of the vanity.

 

“How about you try reading the labels,” Regina suggests, even though Emma can hear her moving in the bed and presumably getting up.

 

Emma grins when Regina appears. “Can’t see them from over here. I took my contacts out already.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes and tightens the sash of the black robe that kisses the middles of her thighs. She gets the basket from the tub and brings it over to Emma, not taking out the oatmeal scrub but instead giving the entire thing to her. She lifts her eyebrow and tilts her head. “Close enough for you?”

 

“You could have just gotten out the scrub, you know.”

 

“And you could have done the same without making me get out of bed, and yet...”

 

Emma grins a little and easily picks out the scrub, putting the basket off to the side and pulling up both of her legs so she can fold them on top of the wide counter. Regina leans her hip against the side of it, arms folded under her chest, watching Emma as she opens the jar and brings it to her nose to smell it. It smells a little sweet, and after looking at the label again, she figures it’s probably the brown sugar that she’s smelling.

 

“Smell it.” She holds it up to Regina’s nose and the brunette takes a delicate sniff, like she’s afraid of the smell she’ll encounter. Emma laughs. “Really smell it,” she says, not moving the jar away. Regina’s eyes narrow, but she breathes in deeply this time and makes a thoughtful hum. “You like it?”

 

Regina’s shoulder lightly shrugs. “I don’t have any strong opinions regarding the fragrance,” she says, of course not going with a simple yes or no.

 

Emma dips her fingers into the jar, two of them, and looks thoughtfully at the scrub before rolling it around between her fingertips. “Do you use oatmeal scrubs?” Without waiting for Regina to answer, she answers her own question and continues rolling the textured scrub between her fingers. “You probably do. Only homemade, of course, made with the stuff you could find in your kitchen, completely natural.” She smiles as she says this, flicking her eyes over to Regina who is pulling her cheek into her mouth and biting on it while watching Emma.

 

Emma quickly reaches out with the fingers that the scrub is on and touches that very same cheek, wiping the scrub on Regina’s face and chuckling lightly when Regina’s eyes narrow and she makes an undignified shriek full of surprise. “Emma!”

 

When Regina tries to take the jar from her hand, she moves it behind her back and keeps it out of reach. “Don’t take it. I’ll behave. Promise. I just couldn’t resist.”

 

Regina glares at Emma, so Emma has to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. She’s not sure Regina’s glares ever work on her anymore, but it’s certainly not doing its job when there’s oatmeal scrub spread across her cheek and she looks so very _soft_ when she’s barefoot in a silk robe instead of her normal getup. She looks more cuddly than frightening, honestly.

 

She shakes her head and moves away to where she’s hung her washcloth. She murmurs something about Emma being a child and something else Emma can’t quite understand, and Emma can’t hold back her laughter anymore.

 

“Yeah, well, you still think I’m amazing, though, so...” She shrugs.

 

“Occasionally,” Regina says, but she smiles too fondly when she says it and looks at Emma for Emma to believe her.

 

Emma puts the scrub down on the counter and watches as Regina washes her face, not able to make the smile pulling at her lips fade. When Regina looks her way and pauses what she’s doing, cloth still to her cheek, and looks right into Emma’s eyes and lets her own smile grow into something remarkably warm and tender, the idea of Emma’s smile fading just feels ridiculous and impossible. She has to look away just to stop herself from smiling like an idiot for too long. Regina’s smiles are contagious, and Emma doesn’t think there will ever be a time when seeing signs of Regina’s happiness doesn’t make Emma happy.

 

Regina shuts the water off and turns around so that she’s facing Emma, her hip leaning against the counter again. “Are you coming to bed?” she asks after silently standing there without saying anything, twisting the tie of her robe between her fingers.

 

“Dunno. Not sleepy yet.” Emma leans forward and takes the belt from Regina’s hand as she shrugs her shoulders, looking up at Regina. She’s surprised to find wide eyes looking at her, questions swimming in them. “What’s wrong?”

 

Regina’s head shakes slowly, her brow furrowing before she relaxes her features completely and shakes her head again. “Nothing.”

 

Emma raises her brow, but Regina doesn’t change her answer. She doesn’t push—instead, she pulls, the material that’s in her hand, that is. It’s curiosity, or maybe just a complete lack of boundaries. She doesn’t think it really matters as long as Regina doesn’t stop her. Regina actually steps closer to her as the belt loosens and the robe falls open to reveal the black camisole Emma had picked out and a pair of matching silky sleep shorts.

 

“I was wondering if you’d gone with my choice,” she shares quietly, letting go of the belt and lifting her hand to twist her damp hair around her fingers, feeling as though she should probably do something with her hands before she does something else that might be crossing a boundary that may or may not even actually exist. She lifts her eyes to look at Regina, offering her a small smile. “I like the set.”

 

Regina stares at her silently, lips parted, her breaths noticeably shallower. Emma’s sure she’s done something wrong and should apologize. She does that sometimes, forgets that some things that feel normal to her might not actually be acceptable. It’s usually small things, but she’s still conscious of them. When she’s half-dressed and Regina comes over, when she clings too long or looks a little too hard, all the things that feel like maybe they’re too much despite it feeling normal to her, those are the times when she worries that she’ll make Regina uncomfortable. But somehow, if she can trust that Regina’s being honest with her—which she does—she never actually makes Regina uncomfortable in those situations.

 

She licks her lips and huffs out a breath. But before she can speak, Regina clears her throat and brushes her hands down the front of her body, not closing the robe but turning to look at herself in the mirror. “It’s new,” she says, and she doesn’t look frazzled or like she’s about to tell Emma to stop touching her because it’s inappropriate. She looks thoughtful, though, thoughtful and like she’s considering something. “Well, I’ve had it for a while now. I just haven't worn it before. I decided that it was probably about time that I did. It's not as though I purchased it to sit inside of a drawer forever.”

 

“It’s wasted on me,” she thinks aloud, looking at Regina’s reflection. It’s the kind of thing she thinks some women wear when they want to look good for the person they’re sleeping with, the elegant and more modest lingerie but certainly still considered sexy.

 

Regina tilts her head, brow raised as their eyes meet in the mirror. “Is it?”

 

“Well.” She shrugs lightly, absently pulling her lip into her mouth as her eyes rake over Regina once more.

 

Emma doesn’t really appreciate fashion the way Regina does, doesn’t really care much about it at all, but there’s no denying that Regina has exquisite taste. It’s just fabric stitched together, pieces of cloth, but once Regina’s wearing the clothes, they become something _more._ They’re nothing special until Regina makes them something worth the attention Emma’s giving the nightwear, just material until there are curves and smooth skin and Regina’s subtle but ever-present allure and confidence to go with it. Emma thinks it’s the confidence that really pulls her in, the fact that Regina knows she’s a desirable woman, knows that she looks good. She carries herself in such a way that shows how aware she is of the effect she has on people without it becoming unattractively cocky. Once upon a time, she had been drawn to confidence like that because she wanted to imitate it, but she’s only thinking about how good it looks on Regina when she looks at her.

 

“Not completely, no,” she says honestly after a long pause. “I mean—”

 

“You don’t have to explain,” Regina says, cutting Emma off, still watching Emma’s reflection carefully.

 

Emma shakes her head, getting off the counter. “I wasn’t going to explain. I was just going to say that you look good, that’s all.” Her shrug feels awkward. She avoids eye contact because it looks like Regina’s reading her and she’s a bit unsettled.

 

“Thank you,” Regina says softly, and Emma hums while gathering her things to take them to the bedroom.

 

There’s a lot of silence for a while as Emma busies herself outside of the bedroom with every random task she can find. Since there isn’t actually much for her do without making it obvious that she’s avoiding the bed, it doesn’t take long for her to run out of tasks. She thinks Regina believes Emma is avoiding her, which is why Regina hasn’t said a word since they left the bathroom and parted ways, but she isn’t. It’s not Regina. It’s the bed.

 

 _Woman up,_ she tells herself after she’s straightened out the coffee table and put out the fire. _If Regina had any issues with sleeping with you, she would have said something by now._

 

Emma decides that for once the voices in her head aren’t self-sabotaging nor lying to her. They’re right. Regina would tell Emma if she was uncomfortable with something, especially something like this. With another person, it might not have ever become a big deal in her head. She would have still considered how they felt about sharing their space with her, mostly because Emma hates feeling like she’s inconveniencing someone, but she wouldn’t be as worried as she is with Regina. It’s about acknowledging her past, remembering little things Regina has shared about a life before, a time when she had no say about the person she had to share so much of herself with. Emma doesn’t ever want for Regina to be in a position where she doesn’t have a choice in what happens again, and she especially doesn’t want to be the person who takes her choices away from her. It might seem like something small to someone else, but Emma understands how significant allowing someone into her bed can be.

 

Emma turns the last light off in the living room and makes her way to the bedroom. Regina’s once again sitting with her back to the headboard, the lamp beside her on its lowest setting, the dim light creating shadows on the edges and gentle curves of her face. Emma wonders if she ends every night like this, reading in the quiet, a sense of calm surrounding her. She looks so at peace like this that Emma doesn’t even say anything as she slips into bed beside her. She doesn’t want to do anything that might put an end to Regina’s tranquil state.

 

Emma wraps her arm around a pillow and turns so she’s on her side and facing Regina. She sighs contently once she’s settled, a heavy breath that makes her feel weightless once it’s released. The corner of Regina’s mouth twitches slightly, but she doesn’t say anything and Emma doesn’t either. It’s quiet and the room is warm, and even though Emma had said she wasn’t ready for sleep, she feels like she could easily drift away with nothing but the sound of Regina turning the pages of her book to lull her to sleep.

 

It doesn’t take long for that to actually happen, for one yawn to turn into two and then that into five or six. One moment she’s following the slow scratch of Regina’s finger below the hem of her robe, and then the next thing she knows, her eyes are heavy from sleep. When she blinks, Regina’s watching her. It takes Emma a moment to realize at some point she must have fallen asleep, another to remember where she is, and then she reaches out and covers Regina’s searching eyes with her hand to make Regina stop looking at her as a low chuckle starts from somewhere deep down in her belly.

 

“Why are you watching me sleep, you weirdo?” She only moves her hand away from Regina’s face once she’s buried her own in the pillow she had been clinging to, smiling sleepily into the softness.

 

Regina shifts in the bed and Emma hears the light being turned off. “You talk in your sleep—mumble, really. I was trying to understand what you were saying when I realized you were no longer awake and what you were saying made very little sense.”

 

Emma groans. “Of course I talk in my sleep. Of course. I probably give away all my secrets when I’m unconscious.”

 

Regina hums softly. “Perhaps I should stay awake, then.”

 

Emma pulls the pillow away from her face so Regina can see the unamused look she’s giving her. Regina only smiles at her in return, a small one that lingers while Regina gets comfortable on her side. She’s under the covers, but her shoulder is bare save for the thin strap as it peeks from underneath the bedding. Emma doesn’t question why she gets a weird urge to trace the strap with her finger, but she ignores it and holds her pillow a little tighter.

 

When several minutes have gone by without either of them saying anything, Emma clears her throat and shifts in the bed enough so her face and Regina’s are perfectly aligned. She can smell the mintiness of Regina’s breath, feel it evenly blowing out in soft puffs against her face. “You’re good with this, right?”

 

She knows Regina’s still awake, knows from the way her breaths fall out of the pattern Emma had been paying close attention to that Regina had heard her. But Regina doesn’t answer for a long stretch of time. Emma holds her breath as she waits.  “With what?” she asks when she finally does respond, eyes still closed.

 

“Me in bed with you, us sleeping together. This.”

 

Regina lets out a heavy breath, but the curve of her lips as she smiles keeps Emma from worrying. “Yes, Emma. I’m okay with _this._ Are you?”

 

She nods, realizes Regina can’t see her, and then answers with a simple, “Yes.”

 

She then sits up and pulls her side of the covers back and gets underneath, keeping to her side but relaxed and comfortable, no longer curling into herself like she had been when she was on top of the bedspread. Regina peeks one eye open and Emma gives her a sleepy smile before she whispers her goodnights and lets her eyes fall shut.

 

“Sweet dreams,” Regina whispers back, and when Emma feels the light brush of Regina’s finger against the side of her hand, she quickly wraps her pinky around Regina’s and doesn’t let go of it as she drifts off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make this longer and include the first morning waking up after sleeping together, BUT I decided to leave that for next chapter because it's a different vibe than what I was going for with the bed sharing parts of this chapter. I wanted to address the whole sharing space thing and why Emma would find it important to make sure Regina's all good with them sleeping together, but what comes next is just fun bed sharing stuff that's way lighter. So I thought I should probably keep them separate. 
> 
> I was talking to Kez about the line between where Emma is now and being completely aware of her attraction, and in case it's not clear that it's intentional, Emma toeing that line between oblivion and awareness is something I'm doing on purpose. She's aware and accepting of things without having proper names for it at times. I'm not sure if it reads how I'm trying to portray it, but complete oblivion isn't what I'm going for here. I believe it becomes more clear (if it's not already) what I'm trying to do with the different levels of her acceptance and awareness.
> 
> Anyway! I'm going to shut up before I try explaining everything I've written because that's just what I do when I'm feeling unsure about the quality of my writing. Thanks for reading and commenting and being awesome human beings (or aliens, unicorns, mermaids, or whatever you might identify as). xx


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when you plan on writing a short bed scene at the beginning of the chapter and it ends up being almost 5k and the majority of the chapter instead? No? Just me? Well...that happened.
> 
> Also wanted to thank all of you who leave comments and tell me what you think because I REALLY appreciate that. Sorry it's taking so long to respond, but I promise to get to them. It's usually a choice between writing or responding to comments, and I know y'all would rather have more story than my awkward attempts at accepting compliments. 
> 
> Okay... Off to read you go!

It’s the uncomfortable feeling of her demanding bladder that wakes her up early Tuesday morning. She fights every step of her body trying to pull her from sleep, but it’s a useless fight when the pressure she feels isn’t one she can ignore. It won’t allow her to sleep peacefully, and she knows it. She groans miserably because of this, groggily, and attempts to roll herself out of bed. Only, she realizes when she blinks her sleepy eyes open, there’s something trying to stop her from moving—or, better put, there’s _someone_ trying to stop her from moving.

 

It takes her a second or two to place the leg that is curled over her hips, the knee that is pressing into her lower abdomen. It’s been a long time since Emma has woken up to find someone holding on to her, but this morning there’s a hand grasping her shirt tightly and a shapely thigh draped over her body that is warm despite the fact that the covers that had been present hours ago are nowhere to be seen. If Emma were to think about it, she would remember that, strangely enough, the last time she had woken up with another, it was the very same person who is currently tucked into the side of her body. As it is, Emma’s more focused on the weight of the knee against her stomach that is most likely the cause of the too-early wake-up call that she didn’t ask for from her bladder.

 

The bedroom is dark, the only source of light coming from the alarm clock, white and dim and barely making any difference. It doesn’t even help Emma make out Regina’s features when she carefully shifts, looking down at the head that is nearly laying on her chest and shoulder. Most of Regina’s face is blocked from her view anyway, dark hair swept across a cheek and shielding closed eyes. Emma uses the hand that isn’t trapped between their bodies to brush away the messy hair, her breath caught in her throat as she gently touches Regina’s face and reveals what had been covered before.

 

If not for her the urgent need that builds the longer she stays in bed and doesn’t go the bathroom, Emma might have been content tracing the lines of Regina’s face with her eyes while they were adjusting to the dark so she could slowly notice more and more of the small details. But even though Regina’s sleepy softness and quiet breaths that warm through Emma’s shirt make her not want to move, she can’t continue laying there much longer. It’s with a heavy breath and an apologetic whisper that she gently pushes Regina’s leg off of her, surprised by how much refusal to be moved comes from the sleeping woman beside her. She’d never thought of Regina as the kind of person who would physically cling to another, but it takes more effort than Emma had anticipated to get herself from underneath Regina’s arm and leg so she can hurry off to the bathroom.

 

While she’s in there, Emma also runs a brush through her hair a few times while looking at her tired face in the mirror. Her eyes are heavy with sleep, but it’s already after five o’clock and she isn’t certain she’ll be able to sleep more now that she’s gotten out of bed. She pouts at her reflection, her bones heavier than the eyelids she barely has open. It feels like it’s been weeks since she had the opportunity to sleep in. She had been hoping that would change while she was away from Storybrooke and the early morning shifts that had her leaving her bed far earlier than she wanted to. But, it would seem, even on vacation, she has to rise before the sun does.

 

She sighs and puts her brush down on the counter. She uses the shiny knob to turn the cold water on and then cups her hands underneath the faucet and lets the chill seep down to her bones before lowering her face to the cold water and holding her breath until her lungs scream at her for air. It’s a shock to her system, but she does it once more and then turns off the water, cold droplets on her skin as she reaches for the face towel she’d brought over with her to pat her face dry. She holds the towel to her for a few seconds and just breathes, letting the seconds go by without much thought. When she removes it, she can at least say she feels a little less like she’s seconds away from death.

 

She hangs the towel up and then turns off the lights, quietly opening the bathroom door so she doesn’t disturb Regina. She’s ready to crawl back into bed and regain the warmth she has lost, but when she notices that Regina has moved completely over to the side of the bed that had previously been empty, almost on the edge, she stops in place and frowns. Maybe it’s silly of her, but she had sort of expected that Regina would still be on Emma’s side of the bed, still sleeping in the spot their bodies had kept warm together. She had not expected to come back to find Regina had moved to put as much distance between them as possible—even if she had done so unconsciously.

 

Her frown doesn’t disappear as she gets under the covers and lies down on her back, turning her head so she’s looking at the back of Regina’s. She feels cold, but pulling her share of the comforter and sheet closer to her chin doesn’t help warm her. It’s not the kind of chill that comes from the low temperature of the room, she knows. It’s not necessarily an unfamiliar feeling, either. It’s the chill of loneliness, something she thinks she should be used to but has a more difficult time ignoring than she normally does. She blames that on waking up with Regina so close to her. Now Regina feels so far away and Emma feels alone. She feels alone and wants nothing more than to go back to the moment she had woken up and her shirt had been bunched up in Regina’s hand like Regina had needed her to stay close to her.

 

She rolls over onto her side and pulls the unused third pillow down to her arms, holding it to her and forcing her eyes shut so she’s not staring at Regina. Not looking at Regina doesn’t make Emma want to be next to her any less, though, not when the pillow smells of the flower fields and fresh rain Regina’s skin does. She tries to ignore it while simultaneously wanting to drown herself in the scent, feeling a sense of comfort from that alone. But neither ignoring nor enjoying what little bit of herself Regina has left behind makes Emma stop wanting to feel that same warmth she had woken up to.

 

The last time she had woken up with Regina, so very long ago, had been the night they slept together on her sofa. They had been drunk then, of course, and the sofa isn’t the best place for two adults to try sleeping together—so Emma had believed that was why Regina had been holding on to her so tightly when she woke up and found the brunette sleeping halfway on top of her. It was different waking up to find Regina holding onto her, clinging to her, when there was no risk of her falling, when there was a big bed with plenty of space for them both. It was as though Regina had wanted to be there, had wanted to be holding Emma to her, and Emma likes the feeling of being wanted by Regina. It’s not knowing if Regina had been aware of how she held on to her that Emma doesn’t like. She wants it to mean something, wants it to mean that Regina, just as Emma so often does, enjoys their closeness and might even want more of it.

 

More. She peeks over the top of the pillow as she thinks about that, thinks about how Regina gives so much to her and she still wants more. She doesn’t know how much more she can realistically ask for before it becomes too much. She doesn’t want to ruin the only healthy, honest relationship she has with another adult because of selfish greed. She knows herself well enough to know she either runs or clings, and she’s passed the stage where she would even considering running from the relationship she and Regina have built together. She’s never had such a strong bond with anyone else before, not one that felt like it grew organically, not one that didn’t feel like someone had been pushing her into something she didn’t really want. Regina’s friendship means the world to Emma, and that’s because of how often Regina makes the conscious choice to just be there when Emma needs her, no expectations, no demands. Emma’s never felt more free to be herself than she does with Regina, and sometimes she worries that she can lose everything she has with Regina because she wants too much and she’s starting to hold on too tightly.

 

It has to be balanced, her wanting and her giving what Regina wants. There will be days when Emma retreats into herself and Regina gives more, but the balance isn’t about giving half and half at any given moment. When she steps back and looks at their relationship, overall, that’s where the balance is needed. She needs to make sure she’s not being selfish, not demanding too much, and she needs to make sure that even though she feels like she needs Regina much more than Regina needs her, she’s still doing her fair share. It’s little things that add up, usually—lunches, picking up Henry so Regina can head home sooner, phone calls in the middle of the night when Regina can’t sleep even though Emma’s barely able to keep herself awake. That balance is what makes things work, and she isn’t sure if she’s allowed to want much more than what she has if she wants to keep that balance.

 

It’s been so quiet for so long that Regina sighing as she shifts feels like a loud roar in the bedroom. Emma’s arm is stretched across the bed before she even realizes it, her hand finding Regina’s shoulder under the covers. She gently strokes it once, twice, and then Regina sighs again, softer this time. Emma’s teeth are pressing into her cheek with so much force that she worries she might draw blood, but it’s the only thing keeping her from asking the question that’s on the tip of her tongue. _Can I come over there?_

 

Surprisingly, Regina turns around so she’s looking at Emma, the whites of her eyes glittering in the dark gray of the room. Her stare makes Emma move her hand away, but she doesn’t get far. Regina reaches out for Emma and stops her, doesn’t bring Emma’s hand back to her shoulder but holds it against an empty space between them on the mattress. Even in the dark, she can tell Regina is searching for something while she looks at Emma, silent but questioning, deep eyes penetrating. It makes her heart race because she knows there’s longing and want clearly visible in her expression, knows that she can’t hide that from her when Regina reads her like the open book she’s become for Regina.

 

She bites down harder, but that’s not enough to stop her this time. “I can’t sleep,” she admits quietly, her voice noticeably softer.

 

Regina takes in a deep breath and shuts her eyes, exhales through her nose as she dampens her lips. “Neither can I,” she shares, and Emma wonders if she’s been awake this whole time Emma’s been thinking about moving over to the other side of the bed so she could have Regina close to her again.

 

Emma concentrates on the weight of Regina’s hand on hers under the covers and remembers how Regina hadn’t pulled away when she curled a finger around one of Regina’s before they fell asleep. The need to connect, that’s what it is, she thinks as she slides her hand from underneath Regina’s so she can touch her. She used to feel that need with just about anybody who was willing to show her affection, but that was long ago. Her need to connect had turned into a longing that she buried and refused to acknowledge because every time someone saw that need, they either ran or only stayed long enough to use it against her. They would take from her whatever it was they wanted for themselves and leave her behind once they were satisfied, feeding her crumbs to trick her into believing she was truly wanted. But that need to connect feels different here with Regina, still a vulnerability but not one she needs to hide.

 

Her fingertips slowly roll over Regina’s wrist bone, her touch lighter than that of a feather. It’s hesitant because she’s still uncertain, comfortable displaying her desire to touch but worried that she’s quickly approaching the line that separates things she’s allowed and things that she can’t have. Crossing that line is what would throw things out of balance, and that’s something Emma just can’t do. It’s an innocent want, to feel and be felt by hands that are careful and don’t hurt, to hold close the embodiment of safety and security. But there are boundaries to be considered, and no matter what she wants, she makes sure to remain aware of those boundaries.

 

It’s because she’s paying such close attention to Regina’s face that she notices it, the parting of lips as her fingers slowly dance up toward the crook of Regina’s elbow. She expects Regina to tell her to stop and is already doing so before she hears the shaky breath, the rush of it as Regina’s eyes squeeze tightly.

 

“Sorry,” she whispers, but Regina is shaking her head and grabbing her arm to keep her from retreating just like she had done after Emma touched her shoulder and pulled away.

 

“You’re—you don’t need to apologize. I’m all right,” she tells her, and then she opens her eyes to look at Emma.

 

Emma doesn’t see any signs of dishonesty in them, so she nods against her pillow. She doesn’t pull her hand away, but she also doesn’t continue tracing the bone in Regina’s forearm she had been following. She just lays there looking at Regina, and that feels like enough for the moment.

 

They’ve been quiet for a long while when Regina looks across the room to the window and then back at Emma. “We could go for our hike now instead of waiting until later,” she suggests, turning back over.

 

“We could also jump out the back of a truck going ninety on a freeway, but I think I’ll pass on both of those.” Regina rolls her eyes and Emma grins against her pillow. “The trail is still going to be there in the afternoon.”

 

“It’ll also be hotter later in the day, and it isn’t as though we’re doing anything right now.”

 

“If you’re bored, you could just say ‘Emma, I’m bored. Entertain me’ instead of trying to make me leave the comfortable bed to go be with the bugs and possible wildlife.”

 

Regina exhales a loud breath and rolls over onto her back, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before she gets up from the bed with purpose. “We’re not spending the entire week in bed,” she says as she stretches, growing a little in height and most likely standing on her toes. Her shirt slowly climbs her stomach and reveals inches of skin, skin that looks like it would be smooth beneath Emma’s fingers. Regina always looks like she would be incredibly soft wherever Emma touches.

 

Emma realizes she’s staring and clears her throat, looking away from Regina and to the headboard. Her fingers curl into the sheets and she forces her mind to think about something other than how she had just been imagining herself stroking Regina’s stomach. She’s pretty certain _that_ would be too much, and the fact that the thought even crossed her mind makes her cheeks burn hotly.  

 

“Don’t look so disappointed,” Regina says with a light voice, an almost laugh just on the edge of it.

 

Emma’s brow furrows. “Huh?”

 

“We’ll sleep in if you like, but we didn’t come all the way to California to do what we could have done in Storybrooke. We’re going to see more than the inside of this lodge.”

 

Emma realizes that, of course, Regina isn’t talking about her disappointment about not being able to touch Regina and she offers the other woman a gentle smile as she lays her head down on the pillow properly, looking at Regina again. “I have pictures to take. I promised Snow that I’d take lots of pictures,” she says in her way of accepting and agreeing.

 

Regina hums and runs her fingers through her hair a few times. It’s still messy and curled naturally from the shower the night before, and Emma wants to tell her to stop messing with it because she likes it. Regina raises her eyebrow, smiling a little as she looks down at Emma. “What?”

 

Emma’s throat tightens as words rush to escape, words she’s trying to hold back. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and digs her teeth into it, shaking her head. But Regina’s curious gaze makes words tumble out despite Emma’s effort to keep them in. “You’re just... I don’t know. I like you like this.”

 

Regina’s smile slowly fades and makes Emma’s stomach uncomfortably tight.

 

She sighs into her pillow and closes her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why—”

 

“No,” Regina insists, cutting her off. “Don’t. Don’t do that.”

 

Her eyes open back to search Regina’s. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”

 

Regina nods and wraps her arms around herself. “I know, dear.”

 

Emma doesn’t know what else to say, so she looks away from Regina and holds the pillow that smells like rain water and flower fields closer to her. She buries her nose in the softness of the pillow and inhales deeply, letting her body relax and her stomach muscles loosen, tension leaving her body. Regina leaves her there like that, slipping away to the bathroom, but when she comes back she doesn’t get ready for the day like Emma thought she might. She slides underneath the covers and lays on her side so she’s facing Emma. Emma doesn’t turn to look at her, but she can sense the intensity of her stare, can almost feel Regina touching her.

 

Emma absently pulls at a thread until it loosens and she can wrap it around her finger a few times. She lets it unravel slowly and sighs, shutting her eyes. “I can feel you watching me.”

 

Regina hums and the bed dips a little. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

 

She shakes her head and simply says, “No.”

 

“Well, then...”

 

Emma lets out a long breath, turns her head, and opens her eyes. She swallows loudly when she finds herself looking into Regina’s deep eyes, knowing Regina was close but not expecting her to be so close that she could easily press her forehead against Regina’s without moving more than just her head if she wanted to. She licks her lips and pulls one between her teeth. It’s still dark in the room, still quiet save for the sounds of their breathing. Maybe that’s why she does it. There’s something about the quiet moments in the dark that make things feel easier.

 

She moves the pillow she’s been holding onto and shifts closer, her bare legs meeting Regina’s, their foreheads touching, the shaky breath that leaves Regina’s mouth slightly tickling Emma’s lips. “You smell minty,” she says, and it’s not what she means to say, but it earns her one of those quiet almost laughs, Regina’s warm breath on Emma’s face again.

 

She grins and lets her eyes fall shut. When she feels Regina’s hand on her face, she’s almost expecting the touch. Fingers gently stroke her cheek before sliding into her hair and tangling in her curls. They roll soothing circles against her scalp and then move back to her cheek, lightly caressing her face. Everything about Regina’s touch makes her sigh, the warmth of her soft skin making Emma feel as though she’s melting.

 

She wonders if Regina feels the same need she does, that need to be connected that makes Emma’s fingers almost tingle with how badly they sometimes want to be pressed against Regina. And if Regina feels that need, does she only find herself wanting to reach out and touch Emma? Is it only Emma that satisfies the desire? Emma wants that to be the case, wants to be the only person Regina finds herself needing to feel just for the sake of feeling. She wants to be the only person lucky enough to know what it’s like to be not only wanted but craved by Regina—and acknowledging that want is a bit unsettling, but it’s also not something that surprises her.

 

She should try to make sense of everything she’s feeling, find words to explain the swoop in her belly and the rush of her heartbeat, but when she’s this close to Regina and there are fingers stroking her skin, she can’t focus long enough to think about much more than how to keep her breaths somewhat steady. She even fails at that when Regina’s thumb touches the corner of her mouth before quickly retreating. All the oxygen in Emma’s body leaves her then. For that quick moment, she feels completely breathless, like her world tilts off its axis and everything shifts. But it shifts back into place a moment later when Regina’s fingers are following the curve of her ear and tucking hair behind it, the familiarity making Emma’s heart calm.

 

“We should—”

 

“If you’re going to say anything that requires getting out of bed, I’m gonna have to stop you right there.”

 

There’s a quiet snort of laughter and Regina pulls her hand away from Emma’s face, patting her cheek gently. “I was going to suggest we start getting ready to go have breakfast.”

 

Emma hums and pulls her head back to look at Regina, only one eye peeked open. “Were you really? I don’t buy it.”

 

Regina’s smirking as she rolls over so that she’s on her back, taking with her the warmth that Emma had been enjoying so much. “No, but I know what works to get you out of bed.”

 

Emma chuckles quietly and doesn’t really notice it at first, but soon she finds herself moving over as well so she can wrap an arm around Regina’s middle. She pulls Regina closer to her as she murmurs, “Yeah, well, breakfast can wait. I’m kinda enjoying this more.”

 

Regina’s breath is heavy when she exhales, but Emma decides that it’s not because of annoyance. She wraps her hand around Emma’s arm, lightly at first, almost like she’s unsure of something, and then firmly. It glides toward Emma’s upper arm as she gets comfortable against Emma’s body. She turns on her side and allows Emma to hold her properly, the backs of warm thighs pressed against the front of her. It feels almost like a surrender to Emma, the second breath that’s quieter than the first like something softer, perhaps contentment. There’s no annoyance, no pulling away, and so Emma answers Regina’s soft breath with one of her own as her eyes fall shut.

 

She doesn’t think she’ll fall asleep, but she does. When she wakes for the second time, she’s no more enthused by the prospect of leaving the bed than she had been the first time around. She blames Regina’s warmth—she’s warm all over, and with their bodies still so close, it’s all Emma can feel. She doesn’t want to leave that, doesn’t want to go out into the real world where there are other people and she can’t be wrapped around Regina the way she currently is. Regina doesn’t seem to mind that Emma is holding onto her like it’ll be enough to make sure she’ll never lose any of what they have, but Emma doesn’t want to share that with anyone but Regina, doesn’t like the double looks they sometimes get when they allow these affectionate moments between them. It’s one thing when it’s their family looking at them a little too hard—that, Emma is used to. When it’s complete strangers, it makes Emma edgy and snappy, and she thinks something about that makes Regina uncomfortable.

 

Alone in the bedroom, neither of them are uncomfortable. There are no weird knowing looks that make no sense to Emma and only irritate her. There’s no requirement to explain why she feels at peace with Regina in a way she doesn’t with any other person. When it’s just them, Emma doesn’t question the many things that she finds herself wondering about when she’s either alone or surrounded by other people. Everything just feels _right_ with Regina, and she hates when she has to give that up, hates when her doubts and uncertainties flood back in.

 

She’s pulled away from her thoughts when the arch of Regina’s foot slides down her leg and the brunette releases a throaty noise into the room. It makes Emma’s heart jump and sends a shiver down her spine. Regina had gone from holding her arm to holding her hand while they were sleeping, their interlaced fingers and connected palms against Regina’s chest. It is because of this that she notices the way Regina’s heartbeat picks up when Emma squirms slightly behind her.

 

There’s a moment of complete stillness after that, and then Regina carefully pulls her hand from Emma’s and turns to look over her shoulder. She almost looks confused, but below that there’s worry that Emma wants to make disappear the moment she notices it. Regina blinks a few times, and then she looks away from Emma’s face and down to the lump they make beneath the bedding. Emma wonders what going on in her thoughts, what’s making the lines on her brow appear. She’s thinking, contemplating, and Emma can only watch as Regina comes to a conclusion she is not privy to and rests her head back down on the pillow.

 

“Good morning,” she says, voice raspy and thick from sleep.

 

Emma’s not sure if she should pull her arm from over Regina’s midsection now that Regina’s let go of her hand, or if she should just stay as she is. But when she lifts slightly and props herself up with an elbow so she can look over Regina’s shoulder and see her face, she sees no signs that suggest Regina wants her space and Emma should move. So she doesn’t.

 

“Morning,” she says back, smiling softly as Regina lets out a long hum and stretches a little against Emma.

 

Regina looks at her for a moment before she smiles as well, a sleepy smile that’s a little lopsided. “Morning,” she repeats, and her smile starts to grow larger before Regina clamps her teeth around her lower lip and bites down, letting a soft moan form in her throat, her body undulating and brushing against Emma’s.

 

Goosebumps break out on her skin, but there isn’t a part of Emma’s body that doesn’t feel impossibly warm. “Tell me again why we shouldn’t spend the entire time in bed.” She lowers her head back down to the pillow, groaning as she buries her nose in Regina’s hair, nose wiggling as the strands tickle it. “Because that was the best sleep I’ve had in forever.”

 

“How on Earth do you function during the week, Emma?” Regina asks with a soft chuckle. Emma’s name sounds so soft when she says it.

 

“I don’t. I really don’t,” she mumbles.

 

Regina shivers and squirms. “That tickles,” she breathes out when Emma’s nose nuzzles her neck.

 

Emma almost apologizes, but she instead nuzzles again, grinning when Regina’s entire body trembles.

 

“Emma,” Regina squeaks. Emma almost does it again, but Regina’s stern, “Don’t even think about it,” makes her stop.

 

“Fine,” she groans, still laughing a little to herself.

 

“You’re such a child,” Regina mutters, and really it’s her own fault after that.  

 

Emma wraps her arm tighter around Regina’s waist and nuzzles the back of her neck until Regina makes a high-pitched noise and escapes, nearly falling from the bed. Emma has about three seconds to get up and hurry out of the bedroom before Regina is calling her by her full name in a murderous tone. She ends up on the patio because she isn’t about to run into a closet, but she doesn’t think about the fact that she’s only wearing a tank top and underwear. So, in the end, she ends up regretting the moment she decided nuzzling Regina’s neck was a good idea because she ends up freezing her butt off and Regina takes obvious pleasure in watching her shiver because of her own lack of thinking before rushing outside with very little clothing on.

 

Regardless of all of that, she quite enjoys starting her day with the sound of Regina’s laughter. And even though getting out of bed means she’s one step closer to leaving the little bubble of privacy they have inside the lodge, Emma decides that she’s looking forward to the rest of the day spent with Regina.

 

Hours later, after they’ve had breakfast at the restaurant that overlooks the lake, Emma and Regina grab bottles of water from their fridge and head out for their hike. There’s a short path from their lodge that leads to a paved walkway. In one direction is the reception building. When going the other way, there is a fork in the road that leads to two separate hiking trails. They haven’t planned much for their day, so when Regina chooses the longer option, Emma nods and follows along without any complaints. She is pleased to notice that the small group that approaches just after they do decides to go with the other trail, leaving her and Regina by themselves.

 

The redwood trees climb high towards the sky, seeming to go on forever, disappearing into the clouds. Emma has brief thoughts of climbing trees as a kid and smiles as she imagines a younger version of herself betting one of the boys she could climb all the way to the very top when they couldn’t. She’d always been a bit competitive, and she had always felt like she had something to prove. Emma likes to think she would make it to the top of the tree with the trunk so wide several of her could wrap around it, even if the only thing that would keep her from freaking out once she reached the top was sheer determination to prove everyone who doubted her wrong and wanting to be seen as the best at something.

 

With the quiet that surrounds them, it’s easy to hear the critters and small creatures that hide out of sight and move around the forest. When she looks closely, she can see the occasional bird, but it’s their chirping that makes their presence known, incessant sounds sounding as though they’re coming from far away. Emma listens closely to those noises, the birds and the scurrying that makes her look down to where there are cacti and shrubs of different sizes, her eyes searching for the small animals responsible for the distinct noises. She doesn’t find more than a couple of squirrels along the way, but she keeps watching out for things she can take pictures of while listening. Emma finds it all, especially when accompanied by footfalls and a stream in the far distance, surprisingly calming.

 

She’s gone on the occasional hike with Henry and David, both her son and father having more love for the outdoors than she probably ever will. And while she always enjoys herself, it’s different with Regina. Henry fills their journeys with facts he has learned, things about the trees and the birds and just about everything that confirms how much of an influence Snow has had on his life. David usually has stories he shares. Those are about the Enchanted Forest, mostly, often about Snow. There are also a lot of his mother and growing up on a farm, most of them told so many times Emma can predict his reactions and she and Henry end up telling half the story themselves through laughter. But Regina’s quieter. She actually hasn’t said much of anything to Emma the entire time they’ve been out.

 

Emma sometimes gets lost inside her own head, but so does Regina. Emma’s never quite sure when Regina needs help being pulled away from her thoughts, though. Sometimes she thinks Regina needs the time to process, to think about choices made and reflect. Other times, Emma feels like Regina thinks too much and it does more harm than good. Emma can relate to that. She knows what it’s like to be uncertain about something, to try to make sense of it until it ends up making even less sense in the end. Normally, Regina’s the person who makes sense of those kinds of things for Emma, the stuff that’s just messy words and feelings until she decides to share them with Regina and Regina gets to the root of it all. She tries to do the same for Regina, but sometimes Regina just doesn’t want to share. Emma respects that.

 

It isn’t until they reach the end of the trail and they’re looking down at the landscape below, the vineyards and the forest that seems to stretch for miles and miles to the mountains in the distance, that Regina even looks at Emma for longer than a few seconds. Emma is taking pictures of the picturesque view when she turns, phone still in front of her, and finds Regina watching her. Although Emma’s brow raises with a silent question, she doesn’t stop taking pictures. She gets several of Regina just looking at her, no poses, nothing forced, just the sun touching her face and Regina’s eyes focused on her. Emma prefers these pictures to the posed ones, doesn’t need Regina to make herself smile, just wants to capture whatever is there in that moment. Emma thinks she’s most beautiful at times like this, when she’s just Regina, plain and simple.

 

Emma slips her phone into her pocket after she’s finished and looks around them until her eyes land on the picnic tables that still allow a decent view. “You wanna sit down for a little while before we head back down?”

 

Regina agrees silently, leading the way to one of the tables. She brushes off the seat before she sits down, and the corner of Emma’s mouth quirks slightly because of it. Emma joins her, putting her water bottle down on the table and taking the spot directly across from Regina. She pulls the elastic from her hair and runs her fingers through it, slowly breathing in the air that smells of dirt and trees and very vaguely of fruit. When she exhales her breath, she threads her fingers through her loose curls and cradles her head, looking at Regina.

 

She searches for something to say, anything—but she really isn’t expecting the random thought that comes out of her mouth after too many silent seconds have gone by. “Did you know that poison oak isn’t really oak, and poison ivy isn’t ivy? They’re both actually part of the same family as cashews.”

 

Regina gives Emma an odd look, her eyebrow lifting slightly. “What?” she asks, a hint of laughter in her voice.

 

Emma shrugs a little, glad to hear even the smallest sound of laughter coming from Regina. “I don’t know. Something Henry told me. You’ve been quiet and all in your head all morning. I was trying to find something neutral to discuss.”

 

“So you decided we’d talk about plants?”

 

“It was either that or birds. My random facts all come from Henry, and, well, you know most of his come from Snow.”

 

“I’ll politely pass.”

 

Emma smirks and reaches for her water bottle with the hand she’s not leaning against. She absently rolls it across the table as she speaks. “So, if you don’t wanna talk about plants, does that mean there’s something you do want to talk about?”

 

Regina looks away from Emma and down to the water bottle that is slowly being rolled. She slips back into her quiet, contemplative state, and she stays there for so long that Emma doesn’t think Regina will say anything. She’s trying to hide that her fingers keep flexing the way they do when she’s unsettled, but Emma notices it, notices it like she usually does when she’s trying to read the clues Regina unintentionally gives away that can reveal how she’s feeling at any given moment. Emma opens her mouth to speak, but Regina surprises her by clearing her throat and opening up a little.

 

“I didn’t mean to pull into myself as much as I did. I apologize for that,” she begins, still watching the bottle and not meeting Emma’s gaze. “There has been a lot to process this morning, and I guess my reaction to certain things was not what I was expecting.”

 

“Certain things,” Emma echoes quietly.

 

Regina dampens her lips and glances up at Emma with a searching look. “This morning, in bed.” It’s vague, and she must know Emma’s about to ask for clarification, must be able to sense the way Emma feels like she needs to retreat in some way. “It was unexpected,” she continues, still not elaborating. She huffs out a breath and rubs her hands against her thighs under the table. “I can’t say for sure if it was the combination of you wanting to hold me and me letting you, or if it was simply me not stopping you—”

 

Emma swallows thickly and cuts Regina off. “It was too much, wasn’t it? I had a feeling it would be, but I, I wanted...” She squeezes her eyes shut and feels sick, feels like her heart is too big for her chest.

 

“That’s not what I’m saying, no,” Regina says, her voice quiet and hesitant despite the effort to stay strong that Emma can hear in it. “Emma, I’m not going to—you’re not going to scare me off. I’m not afraid of your desires.”

 

“Yeah, because you don’t know all of them,” she mumbles, letting her shoulders droop as she refuses to look up to Regina. “Half the time _I_ don’t even know about them until I suddenly want more.”

 

“Okay,” Regina says slowly, like acceptance but not like she truly believes what Emma has said, more like she doesn’t want to argue her point on the matter. “If you have a difficult time believing that, then know that you wanting more isn’t going to make me turn and run the other way either—even if you don’t currently know what more you want.”

 

“But this morning...”

 

Regina lets out a heavy breath and Emma looks up just long enough to see her shaking her head, looking off toward the mountains. “You wanting to hold me surprised me,” she admits. “It didn’t make me uncomfortable or anything like that. It simply surprised me.”

 

Emma rakes her fingers through her hair and inhales deeply, letting what Regina’s just said clear away the sickening feeling that had appeared moments ago. She exhales the breath quietly and looks over to Regina once again. Her lips are pursed and her brow furrowed, her eyes still focused on the view of the large mountains in the distance.

 

“It wasn’t that alone,” Regina says.

 

Emma raises her brow, fingers absently tearing the label on her water bottle. “What do you mean?”

 

Regina turns her head to look at Emma, meeting her gaze briefly. There’s almost something shy about the way she looks at Emma, a slight flush rising from her neck to bloom and spread across her cheeks. “It was not only your actions that surprised me but my own as well. Like I said, I wasn’t expecting any of it—not you wanting to hold me, but especially not me giving into my own desire to be held.”

 

“Oh,” she breathes, considering Regina’s admission. “Was it because, um...?” She bites her lip and shakes her head. “Never mind.”

 

Curious eyes search her own. “Was it because of what?”

 

She shakes her head, but she still ends up answering. “You wanted to be held.” That’s the fact. Regina nods slowly. “But is that—was that...? Um. Me.” Her words are messy and unclear, but she can’t sort them out well enough to properly ask what she wants.

 

Regina takes a moment, but she nods her head again. “Yes,” she says.

 

“Yes?” Emma repeats with a questioning look because she’s not sure Regina understands what she’s asking.

 

“Yes,” Regina says once more. “I wanted to be held by you, Emma. Yes. It was a desire directly linked to you.”

 

Emma doesn’t know what to say, not when Regina’s watching her so closely and all the words feel like the wrong ones. So she says only one. “Good.”

 

And even though she thinks it might have been one of the wrong words, Regina smirks and finally loses the tension in her shoulders. “I’m glad you think so.”

 

Emma’s cheeks pull with her grin and she forces herself not to get lost in her thoughts, wanting to stay in the moment with Regina. She has time to think later. Right now, she wants to be present, to talk to Regina, to listen, to find out where else their wants align that she’s previously been unaware of.

 

“You’re okay with everything, though, right?” she wonders. Regina had said that she was surprised by her reactions, so Emma needs to make sure that, even though she had been surprised, everything is all right.

 

“I am. Unexpected doesn’t mean unwanted. I...” She clears her throat and rubs her hands together on top of the table, her eyes lowering to look at them. “I enjoyed this morning.”

 

“So did I. If you wanted...” She shrugs her shoulders. “If you don’t want it to be, it doesn’t have to be a one-time thing.” The hope in Regina’s eyes when she looks at Emma makes Emma’s heart ache. She licks her lips and quickly continues. “I mean, I _am_ already right there next to you. If you want to be held, you don’t even have to ask. You could just, you know, move closer to me. I...I’d do that for you.”

 

“For me,” Regina says slowly, like she’s tasting the words—and not liking the way they taste on her tongue if the way her eyebrows pinch slightly is anything to go by.

 

Emma wants the hopeful look back, the one that made Regina’s eyes dance like there were galaxies to explore inside of them. She pushes herself a little further, giving more. “I don’t mean that I wouldn’t enjoy it as well. That’s not what I meant. Because...” She feels like her insides are tangling around themselves and making a messy ball inside of her. She takes and lets out a deep breath, holding onto Regina’s gaze. “Sometimes I want to touch you,” she says, and then blushes when Regina’s eyes widen. “Oh, God. No. That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to.”

 

“Emma...”

 

Emma firmly plants her hands down on the table after clearing throat. “A need to connect,” she explains. “All that mumbo jumbo psych stuff they say about how important human contact is, you know? I guess that’s what it really comes down to. Except, I don’t want that with just anyone. Sometimes I feel like reaching out for you, sometimes it’s like a confirmation that you’re there, other times it’s just a simple want to feel you. And, you know what? Sometimes I _do_ just want to touch you. Even if that sounds completely inappropriate. But it’s—”

 

“It’s honest,” Regina whispers, breath slightly uneven.

 

Emma nods and chances a smile. “Yes. It’s honest. That’s what I want.”

 

Regina opens her water and finishes the rest of the bottle, not taking her eyes off of Emma. She sighs when she’s finished and pulls her lips into a tight line, thinking, considering something, and then she nods her head twice. She places her hand on the table, palm side up, and then she just continues watching Emma.

 

Sometimes she feels like Regina has entire conversations without her when they’re talking, and this is definitely one of those times. But when she looks down to Regina’s hand, she understands a lot of what had not been said. The corners of her mouth slowly lift to a smile. She lets the fingers of her right hand lightly brush over Regina’s palm, and when it causes Regina’s fingers to twitch, she dances her fingers down so their fingertips touch briefly.

 

“Do you feel that?” she asks quietly, laying her palm down against Regina’s.

 

Regina curls her fingers over the side of Emma’s hand. Regina hums. “What?”

 

Emma feels dizzy from her own thoughts and only answers by squeezing Regina’s hand and saying, “That. Us.”

 

But it’s enough, she thinks, because Regina’s breath rushes out and there’s wonder in her eyes when she looks at Emma, beautiful, beautiful wonder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> I feel like Emma opened up a lot to me while I was writing this and I better understand what it is that I'm doing with her in this fic. I'm really excited about upcoming chapters, so I hope y'all are still feeling that excitement as well.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First: I wanna thank everyone who has listened to me complain about this chapter, showed support, and sent motivational thoughts my way. Whether it was a simple response to a tweet or a dealing with my rambling through messages, I really appreciate that. 
> 
> Secondly: Updates, unfortunately, might not be coming as often as before. When I started this, it was supposed to be a lot shorter than this so the fact that I'm moving in less than a month wasn't something I really considered. But now that I'm seeing those days tick down before moving day, I thought I should go ahead and warn I might get too busy to post multiple times a week. 
> 
> Thirdly: Wow. This chapter has been rewritten, taken apart, rearranged, reworked, and so much more so many times. So of course, it's nothing like what it was supposed to be and it threw off my entire plan. But... that's usually how these things go. 
> 
> Finally: Go read! Hope y'all enjoy!

There have been four outfit changes, twenty minutes of curling her hair, and way too much time spent on makeup. For a person who usually just pulls on a pair of jeans and matches a shirt with it most days, it has been unsurprisingly overwhelming. She hasn’t put this much thought into her appearance since she was eleven and had heard about the new couple coming to the orphanage, the potential parents wanting to adopt a young girl. She had brushed her hair until it was silky and her fingers ached from how tightly they were wrapped around the wood handle, tried on every outfit she owned until she knew for sure which one was her best, and she had even practiced her smile in the mirror until it was wide and beaming, dimpling.

 

Emma’s reminded of that little girl who had just wanted to be chosen and would have done anything to be seen as the perfect daughter as she fusses over her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail and then deciding against it seconds later. Emma can still feel the heavy disappointment she had felt when the couple hadn’t even looked her way when they visited, can still remember how badly her eyes had burned as she watched them coo and smile at the infant they had gone straight to. They hadn’t even noticed her, not even a glance—but there is a familiar weight of a gaze she knows well making sure Emma doesn’t go unnoticed tonight.

 

Emma lets her curly hair fall down over her shoulders and turns around to face the woman who has been silently watching from the bathroom’s doorway as Emma fought to bury insecurities she didn’t want to fully surface. She’s already dressed and ready to go, but it isn’t the impatience of a person wanting to leave that Emma finds in her eyes when she meets them. There is only a hint of concern with simple, unveiled adoration that creates a warm look that is not only in Regina’s eyes but etched into the rest of her features as well. She didn’t know how much she needed to see that tenderness until she was warming on the inside, an imagined chill disappearing.

 

“I came to make sure you were all right.”

 

The corner of Emma’s mouth gently lifts to form a half-smile as she nods, aware of how long she’s been standing in front of the bathroom mirror. “Just a lot on my mind,” she tells her, her voice heavy with the weight of her thoughts. Her fingers rake through her hair, sliding through the large curls and pulling them to the side. “Give me a few more minutes, would ya? I’ll be ready in a little bit.”

 

Regina nods understandingly and removes her hands from the pockets of her fitted pants, uses them to tug on either side of the leather jacket she’s wearing. Her throat clears as she inclines her head, looking at Emma’s hair. “You should leave it down. The curls are...enticing,” she tells Emma, turning around to leave the edge of the bathroom. There’s an easy lightness to her voice that Emma enjoys, the twitch of a smirk making it feel somewhat flirtatious.

 

Emma smiles as she watches Regina walk away, bringing her hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear like Regina does it, feeling a touch of warmth on her face. There have been little comments like that throughout the day, moments where it’s been apparent to Emma how important it was for them to have that open and honest conversation during their hike. She hadn’t been aware of it before, hadn’t noticed certain signs for what they were, but now that the possibility of _more_ has been discussed, put out there to consider, she realizes that they had both been holding back. Emma has always been painfully aware of her own actions, has always known she worries a lot about wanting and doing too much and it resulting in her losing what she has with Regina. But she hadn’t given much thought—or any, honestly—to the possibility of Regina doing the same. But now that Regina’s freely touching her without that hesitation that Emma sometimes noticed before, admitting that she wants things like Emma holding her, Emma knows that she must have been censoring herself just as Emma had. Neither of them having to do that, Emma thinks, will only benefit their relationship.

 

When Regina’s out of sight, she turns back around to face the mirror and exhales a slow breath, staring at her reflection. She should be feeling light and refreshed right now, relieved that she no longer has to hold her breath and wait for the fallout when she does something she shouldn’t have. She _had_ been feeling that way earlier, hadn’t a worry in her mind as they visited the stables and Emma got over her fear of horses and went for a ride with Regina and the friendly instructor who had led them while giving them privacy so it was like they were alone.

 

But now she feels heavy, and she wishes her brain didn’t rush from one insecurity to another, wishes it didn’t notice that she was calm and content and try to ruin her sense of peace all the time. It’s frustrating. She should be enjoying this new level of closeness she has been wanting and can now freely embrace. She shouldn’t be nitpicking, messing over her outfit and her hair while worrying about stupid things like what strangers are going to assume about her when they see her, what kind of person they’re going to think she is without even knowing her. At the end of the day, none of it matters, and yet she’s been stressing about it since they started getting ready for dinner.

 

Sometime last year, Emma had made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t lose herself trying to be someone she wasn’t, wouldn’t bury the true Emma under layers of falsities, wouldn’t try to fit herself into a mold carved out by someone else. She had done that so many times in her life. As a child, it was always the polite, smiling, hard-working daughter, angelic, the kind she thought parents wanted. In school, it had been the teacher’s pet who always handed in her assignments on time and raised her hand, wanting to be their favorite student. With men, it varied, but when she wasn’t pushing them away, she was squeezing into whatever box they wanted her to fit in so they would love her and she didn’t have to be alone. It never really worked out for her in the end, not as a child, not as a teenager, and certainly not as an adult. It was unhealthy, and last year Emma had realized how much she hated constantly falling into that same cycle and made a promise to work on finding the Emma who embraced who she was and go back to doing that.

 

Staring at the reflection of herself now, she doesn’t feel like she’s embracing her true self. Something feels off. It’s not the dress that clings to her breasts and thighs and accentuates her curves. It’s not the bouncy curls that tumble over her shoulders. It isn’t even the extra makeup she usually doesn’t bother with, not the red of her lips nor the blush on her cheeks. It’s not the appearance of herself that feels off. She might not pull out any of the dresses she owns very often, might not do more than a little eye makeup from time to time, but these things are still her. The problem isn’t the more feminine look, it’s why she’s doing it. She’s not dressing for herself. She’s not even dressing up for Regina—which Emma would understand because doing it for Regina isn’t dressing a certain way to make Regina like her, it’s something she does knowing Regina would happily take her in tanks and jeans the same way she would dressed how she currently is. She’s not dressing up for the sake of looking good but blending in and looking like someone she doesn’t feel she is. She’s buried herself under a role she feels the need to play tonight, and it feels wrong.

 

Her hands grasp the edge of the cool surface, holding onto the counter as she pulls in a deep breath and holds it hostage. The entire time she’s holding her breath, she’s repeating the same words to herself in her head. _You are enough. You are enough. You are enough._ And when her chest feels tight and it burns with the effort to hold on, she lets go of the breath and whispers the affirmation quietly, saying it out loud so she can hear it.

 

“You are enough just as you are.”

 

She’s determined not to let the invasive thoughts keep her from having a good night. She’s been worrying about sticking out and not fitting in, imagining people taking one look at her and thinking she was beneath them, not the kind of person who should be dining in nice restaurants and vacationing where things like complimentary bottles of expensive wine are a thing because the price you pay to stay there more than covers it. But it’s just her insecurities, an irrational fear. She knows that half the people in the room won’t even notice her when she walks in, the other won’t give her a second look. So why the hell is she letting insecurities and anxiety get to her so much?

 

Emma drops her head and groans. “Fuck it,” she says, turning away from the mirror and walking to the bedroom, heels harshly clicking with the tiles of the bathroom floor and then sinking into rugs as she walks with purpose.

 

Regina catches her attention from the living room, sitting in one of the armchairs just outside of the bedroom. She raises her eyebrow in response to the sudden noise, eyes raking over Emma quickly, assessing her. Emma pauses on her way to her suitcase to look back at her, their eyes locked as they connect, both searching for something.

 

Regina hasn’t once seriously complained about what Emma decides to wear when they go out, never makes Emma feel like she’s not dressing the right way. It seems like something that should be insignificant, the fact that Regina—despite doing so in a teasing manner—never makes negative comments about what Emma chooses to wear. But it’s not insignificant. All the people who have tried to change her little by little made it that way, made it so even something small like Regina not caring if she likes to dress in tank tops and simple shirts instead of frilly blouses and outrageous prints is extremely important. Regina might suggest, might jokingly comment on her lack of fashion sense, but she’s never done anything to make Emma feel like she’s needed to change.

 

“Come unzip me.” The words come out while she’s still staring at Regina, sorta just roll out, harsh, rushed. She notices her tone and the almost imperceptible rise of color in Regina’s cheeks and tries again. “Please, come unzip me,” she requests this time, stepping out of her platform pumps and letting her feet relax into the plush rug with a sigh.

 

Regina hesitates in her chair before she gets up, looking at Emma like she’s trying to read her and suddenly can’t. “May I ask _why_ I am unzipping your dress when we’re supposed to be leaving for dinner?” Regina questions as she comes around the bed to where Emma’s standing. Her hands squeeze around each other and her thumbs are rolling into her skin; her brow is lifted.

 

Emma turns so her back is to Regina and moves her hair out of the way, twisting it in her fingers as she considers her answer. She waits for the pull of the zipper before she releases a lengthy breath and looks up to the mirror they’re standing in front of. “I don’t feel like me,” she chooses as her answer, watching Regina lift her head slowly, eyes meeting those of Emma’s reflection.

 

Regina has one hand on Emma’s shoulder and the other still holding the zipper, only about halfway down her back. Her breath is warm on the back of Emma’s neck, even bursts of air as she looks at the reflection of the two of them. She seems to be working through what Emma’s said, all five words of it, the bridge of her nose scrunching up a little. She does this when she can tell there’s a deeper meaning and she’s searching for it, and Emma lets her.

 

After spending so long looking at herself in the mirror and seeing only the worst, all the small flaws and the not so tiny internal ones, she wonders what it is that Regina is seeing as she looks at her. She almost asks. But she doesn’t know what Regina might say, and she’s not sure she’s in the proper frame of mind to go in blindly when there are so many different answers Regina could give her.

 

Regina continues unzipping the dress after a long stretch of quiet, the sound of the two sides separating almost deafening in the silence. When Regina reaches the base of Emma’s spine, her eyes drop down for the briefest of moments and Emma catches the way her throat works, hears how loudly she swallows. The edge of a finger runs over Emma’s skin, featherlight pressure, so delicate that it causes a shiver. But the moment is a quick one, over almost as soon as it begins. Regina pulls that hand away and brushes the other from Emma’s shoulder to her hip, letting it gently tap before stepping away just enough to let Emma turn around.

 

“There you go.”

 

“Thanks,” Emma says, letting her hair fall down. She’s not sure what to do with her hands after that, and Regina appears to have the same problem, hers restlessly flexing in front of her like she’s fighting the urge to touch something. So Emma takes them into her own and wraps around Regina’s fingers until they still, palms over the hard points of knuckles, holding tight.

 

Regina lets out an unsteady breath and smiles lightly even though she’s not meeting Emma’s eyes. “Do you want to find somewhere else to have dinner? We can drive into town, see some of Napa and find somewhere less...” Her lips purse, her sentence trailing off. Her brow furrows as she thinks, and it’s kinda cute. “We can find somewhere that doesn’t make you feel anxious,” she suggests lightly, finally lifting her head to look at Emma.

 

Emma squeezes Regina’s hands and shakes her head. “Thanks, but I’m good now. I just need to change.” She looks down at herself, the dress no longer tight against her torso but still showing off a fair amount of cleavage. She had looked pretty damn good in the dress, and she almost wants to keep it on. But she needs to distance herself from the thoughts that had made her feel like she needed to look a certain way just to go have dinner. “I’ll save the dress for another night. I feel more like pants.”

 

“Okay. I’ll let you get dressed,” Regina says, going to move her hands but not being able to because Emma’s holding on tightly.

 

Emma stretches her thumbs out and strokes soft skin, smiling when a tiny but deep hum fills Regina’s throat. “Thank you.”

 

Regina doesn’t ask what Emma’s thanking her for, just nods her head silently and stays with her hands in Emma’s for a few more seconds before pulling away and leaving Emma to get dressed. Emma lets the dress fall down to the floor and then steps out of it as soon as she’s alone, sweeping it up and tossing it to the bed. The offer to go somewhere else for dinner had been appreciated, but Emma’s actually been excited about dinner tonight. They had enjoyed a delicious (and late) breakfast at the restaurant, but she knows the best time to dine there is at night, and Regina had mentioned wanting to sit at one of the tables on the deck. The combination of the lights, candles, and the lake had its appeal, even when she had been stuck inside the twister of thoughts that had made her feel like she would be uncomfortable the entire night.

 

She ends up pulling out a simple white scoop-neck and a pair of tight black pants, mixing them with a sleek jacket and deciding to go for casual and laid back. Once she’s dressed, she feels much more like herself and almost like a physical weight has been lifted from her shoulders. It’s amazing what something as small as changing an outfit can do, how the physical distancing from something she had continuously associated with the night helps quiet the loud voices in her head. Running her eyes over her reflection, she no longer feels like she’s dressing to play a part. She’s just Emma. The desire to belong will probably be with her for the rest of her life, but she’s managed to quiet it tonight, managed to remind herself that she already has a place where she belongs and doesn’t need to try to fit in with a group of strangers. Right now, she belongs with Regina, and there are no requirements for that other than being who she already is.

 

It’s not too much later when she walks into the living room and clears her throat to get the attention of the bookworm who somehow manages to be dressed in all black and leather but look impossibly small and delicate while reading, like Emma should be wrapping her up in a blanket and protecting her from the world. Needing to wrap Regina up and protect her is a preposterous idea when Emma knows that even the mightiest have been brought down to their knees because of her, but that does nothing to make Emma want any less to shield and protect. Regina is strong, powerful, and one of the fiercest people Emma’s ever known, but she is all of those things while still being warm, loving, and sensitive. She’s complexities and layers, and Emma has been fascinated by that for a while now, adores her for her lack of simplicity and her beautiful shades of gray that she has learned to embrace.

 

Regina’s eyes don’t leave her book when Emma clears her throat, but her eyebrow lifts. “Half-a-page more,” she says distractedly.  

 

“Okay. No rush.” Emma slides her hands into her pockets and waits patiently for Regina to finish the page she’s reading, rocking on the short heels of her boots and tapping her thumbs against her hips.

 

When Regina is finished, she slips a bookmark into the book and gently places it down on the coffee table so that the edge of the table and the spine of the book are perfectly aligned. She then rubs her hands together and unfolds her legs from the chair, slowly allowing her eyes to take in Emma as she stretches out her own body and hums in her throat. It’s an appreciative hum, and Emma shifts awkwardly on her feet for a moment before finding her confidence and rolling her shoulders back, not fidgeting as Regina takes her in. She doesn’t have to wonder what Regina’s seeing as she looks at her this time, not when Regina’s expressive eyes aren’t purposely blank and that hum only stops when a lip is brought between the brunette’s teeth.

 

Regina is unabashedly checking her out. It’s as simple as that, no other words quite fitting for the slow pass of admiring eyes that feel almost like a physical caress. There’s a slight lift to Regina’s eyebrow, her teeth biting down with more pressure into the fleshiest part of Regina’s lower lip. Her eyes are moving oh so very slowly, like she’s taking a long-awaited journey across territory she’s been wanting to visit for decades. It’s like she doesn’t want to miss an inch of Emma, and Emma feels herself grow warm in response to that.

 

This is new, she thinks. But a moment later she wonders if it really is—because the way she feels completely bare in front of Regina is something she has felt before, and the long gazes and traveling eyes aren’t unfamiliar either. But she’s never considered it that, Regina checking her out, not when she does the very same thing, not when she’s been caught more times than she can count admiring Regina. It’s the terminology that’s new, and perhaps that’s the reason her heart races a little when Regina’s eyes finally flick up to meet Emma’s and there’s something dark and appreciative in them.

 

Emma licks her lips and tries to swallow around the lump in her dry throat. She wonders what it all means, the look, the way Regina’s still holding her gaze, and especially the rush she feels that almost makes her dizzy. But she considers the fact that it doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s not like Emma hasn’t seen Regina check out other people before, not like checking someone out has to be significant. Just yesterday Regina had taken an extra long moment to look at the well-dressed man who had been in front of them in the airport, and so had Emma. But it didn’t mean anything, just a show of appreciation for an attractive person.

 

Appreciation. She decides it’s as simple as that and doesn’t let her mind run wild with other possibilities. So when Regina stands up, shakes her hair out, and then teases the waves with her fingers, Emma takes a moment to return the appreciative look. It’s all familiar to her, not only how much she simply enjoys being able to take Regina in fully, admire her, but the way Regina doesn’t shy away from the attention. Regina’s mouth quirks, a smirk appearing, and Emma knows that look because it’s the one she receives when she lets herself do just as Regina had been doing a moment ago, eyes slowly following lines and curves as though tracing shapes to memorize them.

 

Emma has noticed the beauty of Regina from the first moment she met her, the physical attractiveness of her, her style, the way she carries herself. Emma is an observer and always has been. But she sees more than the way her pants are perfectly fit to show off her curves, more than the expanse of skin that is exposed all the way down to the hint of lace that peeks out of from Regina’s blouse. There’s beauty beyond the outer shell, more than what one would pick up on a first glance. Regina is attractive at first glance, but she’s radiant and breathtakingly beautiful when time is taking to truly appreciate every aspect of her.

 

There are laugh lines at her mouth and skin that crinkles and pinches at her eyes, fine lines sweeping out from the corners, small details that Emma believes deserve more attention than where most eyes tend to linger. Emma always finds herself mesmerized when she focuses on these small details, often pictures the smiles and the laughs that had caused the permanent signs of happiness. It’s not the physical attractiveness of the smaller details that Emma focuses on but the beauty behind them. That does nothing to take away from the fact that Emma _does_ find Regina physically beautiful. It’s just that her beauty, just as the woman herself, is layered and complex, and Emma appreciates it all.

 

Regina crosses the room, a subtle sway to her hips, confident and almost sensual. “Ready, dear?”

 

Emma’s throat is still dry when she speaks. “Yeah,” she croaks before rubbing the back of her neck and clearing her throat. “Yes.”

 

Regina grabs her purse from the coffee table and closes the last few feet between them, giving Emma a much quicker once-over and nodding her head. “Mmm,” she hums.

 

“Is that a hum of approval I hear?” Emma asks with a raised brow, grinning. “Do I look okay?”

 

“Much more than okay,” Regina answers in a low voice, putting her hand on the small of Emma’s back and guiding her so they can leave the lodge and head to dinner. “But I’m quite sure you already knew I thought that. You most likely wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t,” she says matter of factly.

 

She’s right, of course. Emma glances at Regina out the corner of her eye and sees Regina’s giving her a look that dares her to deny she was unaware of what Regina thought, but she doesn’t. She shrugs her shoulders and opens the door, steps aside so Regina can walk out first, sweeping her hand through the air in a dramatic wave. “Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it,” she suggests after Regina’s rolled her eyes and walked by.

 

Regina pauses, tilts her head, and then dampens her lips. “In that case, perhaps a more fitting response would be if I told you that you’ve looked exquisite each time you claimed to be ready tonight. But, I must say, the confidence that you’ve regained does add a certain...allure.”

 

Emma watches the way Regina’s eyes travel over her—again—and feels her belly swoop. Heat crawls up her neck and she quickly looks away from Regina, fumbling with the keys in her hand as she shuts the door. “Yeah, a ‘you look nice’ would have been enough, you know. You don’t have to pull out words like exquisite for me,” she mumbles, trying to chuckle but sounding incredibly awkward instead. She immediately quiets.

 

“Nice would have been unforgivably inadequate,” Regina argues, sounding serious. “You are stunning, Emma Swan. If you ask me what I think, you should expect my honest opinion.”

 

Emma doesn’t say anything, just stares at the door that’s still not locked while she pretends she doesn’t notice that Regina’s looking at her. Regina’s voice had sounded too raw, the compliment making Emma feel another headrush. She doesn’t feel like she’s responding the way she should. It’s as though she’s feeling extra of everything, double, and her pulse is racing and won’t slow down. The silence is tense and she wishes she could find something humorous to say, but all she can hear is Regina saying she’s stunning and how clear it is that she truly believes that.

 

Regina huffs out a breath and places a hand on Emma’s shoulder, making her jump slightly. “Let me,” she says softly, taking the keys from Emma’s hand and wrapping her arm around Emma so she can lock the door.

 

Emma turns her head and looks over her shoulder, searching Regina’s eyes until the other woman looks directly at her. Patience is what she thinks she finds, patience and something softer than that. Emma almost gets lost in Regina’s eyes as she tries to put words to the emotions she sees, but Regina squeezing her shoulder and smiling grounds her and keeps her there in the moment. The ground is hard beneath her feet, Regina soft against her back; the air smells like trees and dirt, and Regina smells surprisingly like cinnamon and cranberries today. She goes through all five of her senses, just to make sure she remains in the moment and doesn’t drift away. She hears her own heartbeat, tastes the lingering mint flavor of her toothpaste, and for the longest moment only sees Regina looking back at her.

 

“Shall we?” Regina asks, breaking the tension between them but not the connection, her hand still on Emma’s shoulder.

 

Emma clears her throat, still feeling floaty and like her senses are out of whack. She decides that what she’s feeling might not easily disappear and nods her head, not wanting to hold them up any longer. “Yeah,” she responds. She clears her throat once more and makes her grin grow. “I’m starving.”

 

Regina’s eyes roll and she slides her hand away from Emma’s shoulder. “When are you not?”

 

“Halfway through a meal,” she says and adds, smirking, “usually.” The faux annoyance her response earns her makes Emma laugh. After that, she’s feeling a lot more normal and less like her heart is going to pound right through her chest.

 

The walk to the restaurant is a short one, and soon Emma finds herself sitting down at the bar. Regina has gone to the restroom and Emma is waiting for one of the tables on the deck to clear out, her back to the rest of the restaurant. Despite everything, since she walked through the double doors, Emma hasn’t felt an ounce of the anxiety that had been present earlier. The hostess had been bubbly and welcoming, the bartender polite, and nobody has done more than glance her way.

 

She’s practically invisible, and that only changes when the empty spot next to her at the bar is taken by a relatively attractive blond man who looks at her quickly, turns towards the bartender, then turns back to her almost immediately with what she assumes is supposed to be the kind of smile women swoon over. Emma’s not swooning, though. Emma’s barely paying any attention to him, averting her eyes, more interested in the labels on the bottles that are on display on the wall behind the bar. He reeks of arrogance, and he hasn’t even opened his mouth yet.

 

He clears his throat loudly, obnoxiously, like he should have automatically received her attention. Emma rolls her eyes—which is apparently not a hint he understands. “The name’s Chris,” he tells her, and he even makes his common, boring name sound like it should be important. “I couldn’t help but notice you were sitting here alone.”

 

Emma just can’t help herself. Her eyes roll again before she turns her head just enough to look at him. “Good for you. I don’t recall asking.” Her tone is flat and she sounds bored. She really doesn’t want to be bothered.

 

He looks taken aback at first, but he continues on as though she hadn’t responded. “I thought you could use some company while you wait. A beautiful woman should never have to sit alone.” He unbuttons his jacket and gets comfortable, resting one of his arms on the bar and turning so his body is facing hers, his knee nearly pressing into her thigh. “I’m vacationing alone as well. I just made partner, so I thought to myself, ‘Why the hell not?’ and booked the trip. I work hard. I deserve a reward, right?”

 

Emma looks over her shoulder for either the hostess or Regina, but neither are heading her way. She lets out a long sigh. She certainly hadn’t expected she would have to deal with unwanted attention from men while on this trip. She had almost forgotten how much they annoy her, especially when it’s obvious they’re simple-minded and think the fact that they’ve decided to approach her automatically means she’s going to be interested in them. Thankfully, she’s been marked off every eligible man’s list back home. She has been enjoying her year of just being with herself and learning who she is without a man chasing after her—and even more importantly, who she is when she’s not blindly devoting herself to them after they’ve worn her out. If a fake tan in a sports jacket is what she’s been missing, she’s happy that she has discovered she has absolutely no desire for any new relationships with men.

 

“Look, that’s awesome for you, but I’m actually not alone. I’m waiting for someone. And not to be rude, but I’m really not in the mood for whatever this is,” she says, gesturing to him and the lack of space between them he's responsible for. “So let me just save you the time and say I’m not interested.”

 

His smile widens and he laughs—really laughs. “Whatever this is,” he mimics. “I’m just trying to have a friendly conversation. You women all think just because you’re hot, someone’s hitting on you. Can’t a man just wanna talk?”

 

“Well, maybe if _you men_ didn’t like to invade our personal space and say stupid shit like ‘a beautiful woman shouldn’t have to sit alone’...” Her eyes roll and his lips pull into a tight line. She shrugs. “Does that even work? Like, seriously. Am I supposed to be flattered by that?”

 

“Flattered by what?”

 

Both Emma and Chris turn at the sound of Regina’s tight voice, dark eyes narrowing as they take in the man next to Emma, stopping at the foot on the bottom of Emma’s barstool that’s blocking her in. Sometimes Emma forgets how deathly a glare from Regina can be, but that’s because she hasn’t been on the receiving end of one of these in a long time, not the ones that make the hair on the back of a neck stand up. Regina’s eyes snap up to look at Chris and there is fire in them that Emma imagines would be hovering over the palm of her hand if they were in Storybrooke and not California.

 

“Who’s this?” Regina questions, still looking at Chris but definitely not talking to him. The question is meant for Emma, and Emma knows that, but he clearly doesn’t.

 

“The name’s Chris, and you are?” He looks her up and down like she’s interrupting something she shouldn’t be getting involved in, but he also doesn’t bother trying to hide that he also checks her out, eyes lingering a little too long when they reach Regina’s chest.

 

Emma had only been slightly annoyed, but the way he looks at Regina makes her skin crawl and her annoyance climb up at least ten notches. _“She_ is someone I’m actually interested in talking to, and from the look of it, the person who’s about ten seconds from making you really wish you hadn’t sat down there. So maybe you should—”

 

He scoffs before she finishes. “Makes sense now.” He almost sounds disgusted, certainly disappointed, as he looks Regina over again.

 

“Is there something you wish to say?” Impatience and annoyance are thick in Regina’s voice, her steely gaze still focused on him.

 

Chris shakes his head and fixes his jacket on him as he stands. “No, we’re finished here. I know when to back off. As it is, I didn’t have much of a chance, did I?” He looks at Emma this time and shakes his head again. “Wasn’t even worth it,” he mutters under his breath, almost quiet enough to be missed.

 

Emma doesn’t miss it, though, and something inside of her, hot and angry, snaps as the words process. But even though she springs up from her seat, she doesn’t make it any farther. Regina’s there and urging her back down immediately, standing in front of Emma and grasping both of her upper arms with a tight hold.

 

“No, Emma, _he’s_ not worth it,” Regina says in a quiet but hard whisper, her eyes zeroed in on Emma’s, “not your time but especially not your anger.”

 

Emma’s feels her fists loosen. She hadn’t been aware that she had balled her hands into fists in the first place, but the imprints of her fingernails are visible proof of how hard she had been squeezing. She looks down at them and then up to Regina, letting out a breath and nodding her head. Regina allows a little smile and Emma returns it, her shoulders sagging and her head leaning forward so her forehead touches Regina’s.

 

“Men are assholes,” she murmurs.

 

Regina chuckles quietly and rubs her hands up to Emma’s shoulders, slow as they continue across them and move to her neck, her touch warm against Emma’s skin. Her fingers begin massaging softly, one hand staying at her nape and the other climbing a little higher to her scalp, her touch like magic. Emma groans and almost pulls away from the contact, but Regina doesn’t let her. “Not yet. Relax.”

 

And Emma does. She takes a few deep breaths until she truly feels better and all she’s thinking about is how good Regina’s fingers feel on her neck and in her hair. “You’re too good to me,” she whispers, wanting to say more but not sure what other words could explain how grateful she is to have Regina in her life, how much it means to her when Regina goes out of her way to help keep her centered.

 

“Shh.” Regina pushes Emma away from her gently so their eyes can meet. Regina’s are searching at first, and then simply just warm and tender.

 

Emma lifts her hand up from her lap and reaches forward, her teeth biting the inside of her cheek as she hovers in the air, inches away from touching Regina’s face, her skin abuzz before she’s even made contact. She can hear the precise instant Regina pulls in a sharp breath, see exactly when lashes flutter and eyelids fall shut; it’s the same moment her stomach swoops and the backs of her fingers run over a smooth cheek. She has no explanation for the gentle caress, only that she needed to do it, needed to see if Regina felt that same sense of peace Emma does when Regina lightly touches her. Regina’s smile growing slowly suggests that Regina doesn’t need an explanation, is more than happy to just let the moment be without there needing to be reasoning for every single thing they do.

 

A throat being cleared makes Emma look away from Regina and Regina step away, putting a small amount of distance between them. Their intruder smiles politely and apologizes before bringing them to their table, giving them menus and a wine list. It’s not surprising to Emma that the only thing she even recognizes is the word wine itself. She’s never cared much for wine, only really drinks it when someone else is having it. She’s bought less than five bottles her entire life, and all except one had been for Regina when the brunette invited her for dinner. Emma prefers a cold beer with her meals, usually goes for one of her favorite whiskeys or Regina’s cider when having drinks with Regina. She’ll drink wine, but it’s not her favorite—which is why when the time comes to order, she lets Regina handle the wine choices for both of them.

 

“Tomorrow, we’re going into town for dinner. That menu was one thing I’ve never heard of after another, topped with dishes that shouldn’t even be called food,” she says after their wine has been poured and they’re left alone.

 

Regina raises an eyebrow with amusement. “How can you claim to enjoy food as much as you do if you’re not open to trying something new?”

 

“Uh, I don’t think ‘mmm, yum,’ when I see garden and harvest on a menu, Regina. I’m not a rabbit.”

 

“No, you’re ridiculous,” Regina says, her eyes dancing with both mirth and the reflection of golden light from the candles that sit underneath their protective glass covers. “It’s part of the experience. You’re meant to be embracing nature while you’re here.”

 

“By eating it? I’m sure the plants really appreciate that.”

 

Regina’s eyes roll heavenward and she shakes her head. “Should we discuss what you chose instead of the plants who have now apparently grown emotions?”

 

“Nope. But we can talk about how carrots don’t belong in dessert and yet they were in not only one but two different desserts.”

 

“I swear, your eating habits...” Regina trails off, but even though she’s shaking her head as she looks over to the lake, there’s a fond smile making her lips curve gently.

 

Emma had been worried about the couples and seeing people hold hands and being overly affectionate around them, but she realizes that she hasn’t paid much attention to anything beyond the woman in front of her. She’s enjoyed the way the moon reflects against the calm water of the lake, caught herself watching an older couple with a smile on her face as they fed each other and laughed while getting dessert on their partner’s faces, but nothing holds her attention the way Regina does. Bathed in the golden light of candles and the lights strung above them, Regina glows and her eyes seem to twinkle like jewels. Nothing else quite compares to that.  

 

Emma swallows and reaches for her wine glass, lowers her eyes to the deep red liquid to stop herself from looking at Regina too long. Becoming aware of just how often she finds herself getting lost in some part of Regina—or in a moment with Regina—makes her feel almost breathless. As she swirls the wine around her glass, she wonders if Regina can see exactly what’s going on in Emma’s head when she’s looking at her. She’s usually transparent to Regina, and she knows it. But does Regina know that Emma’s never felt a draw to another human being like the one that is responsible for directing Emma’s attention to Regina? Is it obvious to Regina how captivated by her Emma is?

 

She brings up her glass to her mouth and takes a small sip to taste the wine, letting her eyes slowly move back over to Regina. She tries to recall a time in the past when she had felt this way, all jumbly inside and with an ever present desire to simply be near someone, but she honestly, no matter how hard she tries, can’t remember ever feeling this way. Lily comes to mind, but that had been short-lived and hadn't been as strong as what she’s been experiencing recently. There had been a friend she’d made at one of the orphanages, but even though she remembers always wanting to spend time with her, none of the other stuff she feels because of Regina had been present. It’s just Regina.

 

Regina turns away from the lake and pauses when she notices Emma’s looking at her, about to reach for her glass but letting her hand rest on the table instead. “This summer, we should spend a weekend at the cabin.”

 

“We,” Emma echoes.

 

Regina nods her head as she says, “Yes.”

 

“But do you mean we as in you and me? Or do you mean we as in everybody? Or...?”

 

Regina lowers her eyes to her wine glasses and runs her finger over the rim slowly. “What would you prefer?”

 

The answer is out of her mouth automatically, before she can think about it too long and question if it’s the right answer or not. “Just the two of us sounds nice.”

 

“It does,” Regina agrees brightly. “We can make it a family affair another time, but I was referring to the two of us when I suggested it. We put all of that work into fixing it up last year, so we should properly enjoy it.”

 

“This trip isn't over and you’re already thinking about being alone with me again. I must have made a good impression,” Emma says with a throaty chuckle before drinking her wine and watching Regina follow suit.

 

Regina licks her lips carefully and lightly shrugs her shoulder. “Surprisingly, you don’t make a terrible travel companion.”

 

“Surprisingly? I’m offended.”

 

Regina smirks. “Thankfully, we won’t be leaving Storybrooke, so I won’t be stuck in a car too long with you behind the wheel. Once the driving is over, you’re—”

 

“An absolute delight. Go on, say it.”

 

“An absolute pain.”

 

Emma grins like she’s just been given the best compliment. “I love when you get all warm and sweet.”

 

Instead of verbally responding, Regina just smiles at her before looking away to drink her wine. Their entrees arrive a few minutes later and they start eating, allowing the comfortable silence to continue. They share lingering looks and a comment here and there, but there are no awkward attempts to disturb a calm that they both enjoy, the easiness that is difficult to find with others.

 

When Emma’s dessert comes, they share it. It’s routine. Regina rarely ever orders her own dessert, claims she doesn’t want any, but Emma will tell her to try whatever she orders and they end up sharing. It’s reached the point where every restaurant in Storybrooke that they dine at now automatically gives Emma a little more than the normal serving size. Tonight they’re sharing caramelized bananas and ice cream, and Emma is pleased with her decision because Regina seems to really enjoy it.

 

Emma’s spoon is upside down in her mouth when she looks over to her right, an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach like someone is watching her. It’s Chris, and Emma rolls her eyes and pulls her spoon from her mouth, ignoring his stare as he goes to leave the restaurant. “Even if he hadn’t been an ass, I still wouldn’t have been interested, you know? There’s just something about him.”

 

Regina raises her brow, turning to look in the direction Emma had previously been facing. “Are you referring to—?”

 

“Chris, the name’s Chris,” Emma says with both a roll of her eyes and a chuckle.

 

Regina hums thoughtfully. “He’s not really your type, is he?”

 

“I don’t have a type.” She swears she doesn’t, not really, but  Regina gives her a look that says she clearly doesn't agree and drinks some of her wine. “I do _not_ have a type,” she says again.

 

There’s something like a mix of a scoff and a chuckle in the back of Regina’s throat. “You most certainly do. You’re drawn to a particular type of person, Emma. Surely you must notice the pattern.”

 

“I don’t because there’s no pattern to notice.”

 

Regina dampens her lips and considers something, her head tilted slightly. “So the dark hair, smirking, bad boy type no longer works for you?” Her nose scrunches slightly when she says ‘bad boy’. “The mysterious no longer attractive? Oh, and the leather. Let’s not forget the leather. Your affinity for leather apparently isn’t limited to that which you choose to wear yourself.”

 

Emma blinks three whole times before she finds a way to discredit Regina. “Everybody is a little mysterious in the beginning—okay, well, most people are.” Regina still looks smug. “And leather? Nope. That shouldn’t count. Just about anyone looks good in leather, so that’s not really a type.”

 

“Weak excuse.”

 

Emma points her spoon at Regina. “You’re wearing leather. Half the people in here probably own at least one leather jacket. People just look good in leather,” she says, shrugging. “And you’ve been known to be mysterious as well. You certainly were when we first met.”

 

Regina smirks.

 

“And, and that!” Emma points at Regina with the spoon again, her voice slightly rising in volume as being able to prove her point makes her experiences a rush of excitement. “That smirk. Your entire list, really. You fit it just as easily as half the guys I’ve dated.”

 

“Do I?” Regina says, still smirking, now as she swirls the remainder of her wine around in the glass. “Fascinating.” She hums and her eyes dance, but she says no more.

 

For some reason, Emma doesn’t think she proved her point. If anything, she’s only helped make herself feel dizzy as she stares blankly at Regina. “Whatever,” she says, folding her arms as she leans back in her chair. “Believe what you want, I know I don’t have a type. It’s just coincidence.”

 

“Funny way to pronounce preference, but if that’s what you wish to call it...” She’s smirking and, even though she doesn’t let it out, there’s laughter in her eyes.

 

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?” Emma can’t help her own smile as she asks, even if she wants to be stubborn.

 

Regina’s lips roll together as she shrugs her shoulders and hums in her throat, holding Emma’s gaze. “I think I know you well enough to notice what you find attractive.”

 

“As long as you know it wasn’t that guy.”

 

Regina’s face scrunches up, her distaste obvious. “I know you better than that.”

 

Emma smiles and nods her head. “You do.”

 

They’re both silent for a few minutes, but Emma’s mind goes back to when she had been waiting for Regina at the bar and Chris had shown up. She doesn’t want to spend any more of her time thinking about the man she’ll probably never see again, but words are leaving her mouth before she thinks to stop them.

 

“Who teaches men that they should walk up to random women and start talking to them like the woman is going to automatically be interested in them, anyway? Seriously. The name’s Chris. I still can’t get over that. He said it like I asked him and he didn’t decide to tell me out of the blue.” She shakes her head. “And who even introduces themselves like that? I don’t know. It’s like men think they’re some type of gift and we should be all over them the second they do so much as smile in our direction.”

 

Regina’s observing her carefully, the tiniest of smiles being fought. Emma raises her brow.

 

“What?”

 

Regina shakes her head. “Nothing, dear. Your questions sounded rhetorical. I was allowing you to rant.”

 

Emma makes a noise in her throat and slices off a bit of the banana to go with a spoonful of ice cream that is starting to melt. “I’m done,” she decides, bringing her spoon up to her mouth. “Except, no.” She quickly eats what she’s dipped up and then puts her spoon down, continuing as Regina tries and fails to hide her smirk behind her wine glass. “It’s not even just random guys who think every woman sitting alone is waiting for a man to come save her from a terrible state of boredom or whatever they apparently think we’re in whenever they’re not around. It’s men in general. My favorite are the ones who think a very straight-forward ‘I don’t want to go on a date with you’ somehow translates into ‘ask me again tomorrow’ because, you know, obviously we can’t possibly mean no when we say no—and by favorite, I mean they’re on the top of my hit list, in case you were wondering.”

 

“I can’t say I was, but you let me know when you’re ready to tackle that list of yours and I’ll be ready.”

 

Emma chuckles into her hand, resting her elbow on the table and looking at Regina. “You and me, one jackass at a time, yeah?” Regina raises her glass and Emma follows suit, grinning, letting them clink together. “Thanks for the support.”

 

Regina hums as she drinks from her glass and finishes her wine, holding Emma’s gaze. She leans back in her chair after that, her fingers playing with the thin gold chain she’s wearing around her neck. “May I question about your preferred methods?”

 

An eyebrow climbs towards Emma’s hairline. “Methods? What, like how I want to be hit on?”

 

Regina’s head moves in a short nod. “How would you prefer someone showed interest in you?”

 

“I prefer they wouldn’t,” she says with a chuckle that sounds odd, too loud and almost nervous. She brushes a hand through her hair, trying not to pay attention to how Regina’s so focused on her every move. “My history with men has been nothing but a messy disaster. If they didn’t try hitting on me, trust me, I would be perfectly fine with that.”

 

“Noted, but that doesn’t fully answer what I asked you,” Regina says, giving Emma a slow smile with a raised eyebrow. The necklace wraps around Regina’s fingers and Emma’s almost distracted enough by that not to notice the way her heart is suddenly beating quicker. “My lack of specification in my question was intentional.”

 

Emma doesn’t look away from Regina’s fingers playing with her necklace because she knows that if she looks directly into Regina’s eyes, she might forget how to breathe properly. Not for the first time tonight, she feels fluttery and dizzy because of Regina, all jumbled, like everything is spinning around her.

 

“Regina,” she says, and it sounds panicked. She doesn’t know what’s meant to follow that. She should say something, but just like she had when Regina called her stunning earlier, she’s feeling too much at once and she can’t think properly. She understands what Regina’s asking her, thinks she even understands why, but she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say.

 

Regina’s fingers stop twisting in her necklace after they’ve sat there without saying anything to each other for several minutes. They flex and then Regina pulls them into a fist, moving her hand to hide on her lap underneath the table. Her movements are slow and deliberate. “Please, pretend I didn’t just ask that.” Her voice is devoid of any emotion, distant. She clears her throat. “We should probably put an end to this night and go back to the lodge. Are you ready to go?”

 

“What? No.”

 

Emma’s stomach feels uncomfortably tight. Regina’s not looking at her, is searching the inside of the restaurant for their server, maybe just avoiding eye contact. Either way, Emma can tell she’s pulling back, withdrawing, emotionally distancing herself, and Emma wants to pull Regina back before she gets too far and Emma can’t reach her.

 

“Regina,” she says again, but this time she isn’t just saying her name because she doesn’t know what else to say, doesn’t let it feel heavy with all of her uncertainties. It’s a plea, soft, urgent. She moves her chair closer so she’s no longer across the square table but in the spot adjacent to Regina’s. “Regina.”

 

Regina’s exhalation is drawn out, but she eventually turns to look at Emma. Emma tries for a smile, but her heart is racing and she’s still feeling like everything is spinning. She doesn’t think her smile quite works, and neither does Regina’s. But she holds out her hand and hopes Regina gives hers to Emma.

 

Every second that Regina just silently looks at her feels heavy with the weight of possible rejection. She doesn’t touch Emma, doesn’t speak, doesn’t do anything but look at her with so many conflicting emotions in her eyes that it hurts Emma just looking back at her. But Emma won’t look away, not when there’s that much uncertainty in Regina’s eyes, that much confusion. She feels all twisty inside, but she doesn’t think about it, doesn’t focus on any of the questions she has, doesn’t let the way her heart is racing keep her from being present in the moment with Regina.

 

She feels the soft cotton of the tablecloth on the back of her hand. She smells the mixture of spices in the air. She tastes the sweetness of caramel on her inner cheek as she bites it. She hears the rush of her pulse as it thunders in her ear. She sees only Regina processing, thinking, and fighting an internal battle that Emma can tell is pulling her in opposite directions.

 

Had it only been that morning that Regina had laid her hand out for Emma the same way Emma is now for Regina? That was meant to be an important next step for them, Emma thinks. She had admitted out loud what she wanted, and Regina had listened and offered her hand as a gesture to say Emma had not only been heard but Regina was comfortable giving it to her. Now Emma is holding her hand out, hoping Regina takes it and understands what Emma is offering.

 

Emma recalls the way Regina had looked at her before they left for dinner, what she had easily decided was just a sign of appreciation that didn’t have to mean anything. But she knows it does. Nothing Regina does is meaningless, and even if she had dismissed it earlier for the sake of her own need to make things simpler inside her head, she knows that it had meant _something._ If she hadn’t subconsciously known earlier, she knows it now, she knows it because she can’t stop thinking about it as she waits for Regina to do or say something.

 

How would she prefer someone show interest in her? _Someone._ She doesn’t want for Someone to show interest in her, not an unnamed, faceless person. She doesn’t want to be hit on by a hypothetical man—or a person of any gender. She doesn’t want to be wanted by just anyone.

 

Emma sighs heavily and pulls her hand off the table. Even though they’re sitting in the restaurant and there are people all around them, Emma is aware of only two things: Regina looks terribly unsure about everything, and she herself is certain of only one thing. But that one thing Emma is certain about is the only thing that matters in that moment. No matter what else she feels or thinks, Emma knows that everything she has with Regina makes sense.

 

So when their server comes over to the table and asks if there’s anything else they need, Emma only asks for the check, deciding that Regina is right. They need to leave, but they don’t need to put an end to the night. Emma isn’t going to pretend Regina hadn’t put herself out there by asking a question that might have been phrased simply but had definitely not been neither simple nor unimportant. Regina’s attempt to retreat is enough to show Emma how important the unasked questions and unsaid thoughts behind that one question are. So Emma’s not going to leave any of it unanswered, even if there are a lot of questions she has for herself before she can give Regina all that she probably needs to get rid of the uncertainties that are keeping her emotionally distant from Emma.

 

But for now, Emma can offer up enough until they can properly discuss what Emma feels might have been something they needed to discuss long before this night. She clears her throat and waits until they’re outside of the restaurant, Regina’s hands buried in the pockets of her jacket, her eyes focused on the steps her feet take. They’ve been silent for so long that her throat clearing sounds strange, but it gets Regina to glance her way for the briefest of moments.

 

“I wanna talk about this,” she tells her, sure of it. “This isn’t us. It hasn’t been us in a long time. If there’s something we need to talk about, we do. And this, this is something that we should discuss.”

 

Regina doesn’t say anything at first, but then she says one word, voice an odd mix of hope and hesitance, that push and pull making Emma’s chest feel tight. “This?”

 

“Us,” she clarifies, hoping her voice doesn’t shake because she’s trying to remain sure and steady, but she’s still full of her own uncertainties and questions, everything feeling as though it’s changing around her.

 

Regina stops walking and Emma keeps going for a few steps before she realizes she’s alone. She turns around and faces Regina, Regina who looks like she is fighting herself to remain open as she meets Emma’s eyes, like everything inside of her is trying to shut down so she can pull back but she’s determined not to retreat. Emma understands how hard that is, how difficult it can be to want to run but decide to stay, to want to hide every bit of yourself from someone but reveal everything instead.

 

Emma pushes her hands into her pockets and smiles with more hope than she currently feels. “You said I’m not going to scare you off. You’re willing to hear me out when I want more and listen. You’re not afraid of what that means. And, well, you know what, Regina? I’m not going to get scared off either, okay? I can listen. We can talk. I’m...” She pauses to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m still okay with more, even though what more means is still unknown to me. We can tackle the unknown together. Right?”

 

Regina’s eyes fall shut, and Emma’s stomach feels heavy. But after she takes a moment to breathe in a mouthful of air and slowly let it out, Regina’s eyes open and she starts walking to close the distance between them. Hope flutters wildly inside of Emma’s chest.

 

“It might not be easy,” Regina says, and Emma can’t help the small snort of laughter that follows Regina’s words.

 

“Things never really are, are they?”

 

Searching eyes look into hers, gaze unwavering as Regina says, “Some things are, but not most.”

 

Emma holds out her hand for the second time this night. “I don’t need this to be easy. I just need to know that we’re in whatever it is together. The rest is just us being willing to listen to the other, and we’ve worked really hard on being good at that.”

 

Regina’s eyes lower to Emma’s hand. She doesn’t remove her hand from her pocket at first. She’s working through thoughts, and Emma silently waits, keeping her hand held out between them. One second turns into five, five into ten, and time seems to continue to stretch on for much longer than Emma is prepared for. But just when Emma’s starting to worry that Regina won’t take her hand once again, Regina pulls her hand from her pocket and places her palm over Emma’s, warm and solid and perfect.

 

“Okay. We’ll tackle the unknown together,” she tells Emma, finally letting out a breath that sounds like it had been trapped for much longer than they had been standing in the silence.

 

“Together,” Emma repeats, loving the sound of that as they start walking, heading toward the unknown of their future but doing it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...they're moving things forward an entire day before they were supposed to be according to the plan, but they're in charge of this ride and they decided I was making it too slow. 
> 
> Next chapter was supposed to be Paint + Sip with mistaken for couple goodness, but now it's going to be lots of talking and digging into emotions instead. Still good, I guess. But now I have another chapter before I can get to Paint + Sip, but that's still happening even if it's going to be different than I've been planning. 
> 
> This chapter wins the award for being the best at destroying my plan. Show it some appreciation? 
> 
> Okay. I'm barely awake. So goodnight (it's 5:30 in the morning, so it's basically still night), love you all. Kiss your pets for me, then kiss yourself too. Regina would. (Don't tell me she wouldn't. Because the queen and Regina have way too much chemistry.)
> 
> Kaleena out! xx


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you start writing something and it feels like it's going in one direction, but then it turns around and goes a completely different way. This chapter did that. It started out like it wanted to be emotional and heavy, and then it... Well, just go read (and hopefully enjoy).

It was a little over a year ago that Emma, soaked and freezing from the rain, had shown up at Regina’s door around two in the morning after needing to leave her house to go for a walk because it had felt like she was suffocating and needed air. It hadn’t mattered that the streets were starting to flood from the torrential downpour. She hadn’t considered dressing warmly or even changing out of her pajamas, hadn’t grabbed an umbrella. She had walked and walked until her lungs no longer felt tight and she could hear more than the sound of the voice in her head that was not her own but that of the man who had made her feel worthless just because he could, just because he was mad and throwing ugly words at her until she was hurting as well somehow made him feel better. She had not planned her walk so that she would end up on Regina’s porch, but when Regina pulled her in, eyes full of worry, it had felt like it was all right to turn to Regina when she needed someone.

 

Emma had never felt like it was acceptable needing anyone, had worked hard on finding her independence so she didn’t need to depend on other people. But Regina didn’t treat her like a burden, didn’t make her feel weak when she was already feeling broken and everything hurt inside. Regina had called her an idiot and tried to hide the raspy sadness in her voice when she said it. Then, she had shaken her head while whispering sweeter words, touching Emma so gently that it had made Emma cry as her body shook. She had wanted to hide it all, the tears and the pain, but Regina had held Emma’s head to her stomach while standing in front of where Emma sat on the sofa with blankets wrapped around her, not allowing Emma to move away. Regina had seen her break down and still held her close, and Emma had never felt more vulnerable nor cared for than she had then.

 

As Emma paces in front of the fireplace while waiting for Regina to return from the bathroom, she’s thinking about that night. She had been emotionally and physically drained, freezing, and everything she had been trying to make work because it was what she believed was best for everyone had started crumbling all around her. That had been the night that she realized that she and Hook would never make sense. He had never really been good for her. Finding her strength hadn’t been easy, not after he slowly but surely broke parts of her she now wishes she never trusted him with. He had his moments of seeming caring, being the kind of man she had thought could love her, but too often he was only the person who hurt people, who kept hurting her until she was fragile and believed every terrible thing he ever said about her. That night when Regina had let Emma cry and she comforted her, it had not only been the night she realized everything felt wrong in her life and she needed to make changes, it had also been the night that things started to slowly, oh so very slowly, feel good for the first time in a long time.

 

Regina had brought her upstairs and given her pajamas that smelt like lemons and fresh laundry to wear before going to the kitchen to make Emma hot chocolate. She hadn’t asked what had happened to bring Emma to her house, didn’t push Emma to talk about what she had not yet been ready to share. But she also hadn’t left, nor had she sent Emma away. Regina had spent the night on the chaise, there if Emma needed her but giving her enough space in case that was what she wanted. Emma had been unable to sleep, but she had felt warm, safe, and protected the rest of the night.

 

It is impossible to fully understand how much it hurts going a lifetime without feeling things like safety until you finally do, until suddenly you can breathe and you realize that all those years you had been struggling to do something that was supposed to come naturally. She had never felt true safety, not the kind that allowed her to be bare and her most vulnerable self without worrying that the person who saw her that way might take advantage of her or see her vulnerabilities and use them against her. She had never felt like it was okay to cry in front of someone without apologizing for it, feeling like she had shown too much weakness. She had never known what it was like to feel like she could break down and not have to worry about anything because someone else would take over if she needed it. She hadn’t even known those were things she needed until Regina was giving her all of that and more, comfort and a safe place to be as emotional as she felt comfortable being. Even though Emma hadn’t been able to put any of it into words then, not while she was in the middle of it all, it had been that night that Emma came to accept that Regina was safety.

 

Safety. The word tumbles around in her head with everything else she associates Regina with until the sound of Regina leaving the bathroom pulls her away from her thoughts. She stops pacing and stands still in front of the fireplace, the heat of the fire warming her legs through the pajama pants she had slipped on after undressing to get more comfortable. She pulls her lips into her mouth and presses down tightly, hands pulling at the hem of her tank top until she notices what she’s doing and stops herself, willing her body to relax. Regina has changed into her sleepwear and removed her makeup as well. Emma smiles at her when she pauses to look at Emma before heading over to the sofa to sit down.

 

“Please don’t tell me you plan on standing there all night, Emma.”

 

Emma shakes her head and joins Regina on the plush couch, folding her legs in front of her and turning so that her back is against the arm of the sofa. They haven’t said much to each other since they left the restaurant. But, just like Emma had needed a moment to work through some thoughts, she figured Regina would need to do the same before they talked. It had been why Emma suggested they go ahead and change for bed. She had needed a quiet moment alone without making Regina feel like she was having second thoughts about the conversation she had said she wanted to have. She also wanted them to be comfortable, feeling as though it would make them feel more at ease.

 

Emma tucks hair behind both her ears and meets Regina’s eyes, letting her body slump as she exhales and her lips form a gentle curve. Regina returns the smile, and when Emma’s elbows fall to her crossed legs and she hunches over her lap slightly, relaxed, Regina loosens her shoulders and loses the rigidity that had screamed discomfort. She brushes her hands over her thighs and then hides them underneath herself, her feet pulled onto the sofa.

 

“Okay,” Emma breathes once they’re both settled, the word stretching out, almost to the point of awkwardness.

 

Regina raises her brow. “The floor’s all yours.”

 

“Mine?” She doesn’t mean to squeak when she says it, but she does. But she’s determined to keep the mood as light as possible, wants to openly discuss everything without either of them feeling the need to pull back. She likes it best when they can do that. “Okay,” she says again, this time undeniably awkward and unsure. She tries once more. “Okay.”

 

“Perhaps you should try a different set of words,” Regina suggests. “I think you might have just reached your daily limit for that one.”

 

Emma glances up from her hands to look at Regina. There’s a tiny smile there waiting for her when she looks at the other woman, and Emma feels knots that had slowly been forming untangle. “You’re teasing me.” Emma shakes her head and a small chuckle escapes her throat. She runs a hand through her hair and watches as Regina shrugs delicately. “That’s good. I mean, if you’re teasing me, that means you’re not on the verge of freaking out or anything. Right?”

 

Regina’s smile fades too quickly, uncertainty filling her eyes. “Should I be?”

 

“No.” Emma is quick to shake her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

 

“Are you?”

 

Emma shakes her head again. Regina lets out a relieved breath and Emma continues assuring her. “I’m not going to either. I think I needed a moment before doing this—because, yeah, you kind of caught me off-guard earlier—but I’m ready now, and I’m not gonna run from any of this.”

 

Regina looks ready to accept what Emma’s said, but then she wets her lips and averts her eyes. “Before I make a fool of myself by saying something that I shouldn’t—”

 

“You can say whatever’s on your mind, Regina. Whatever you say will be okay.”

 

Regina only acknowledges what’s been said with a hum before continuing. “I’d appreciate you telling me, exactly, what it is we’re about to discuss.”

 

She’s worried they aren’t on the same page, Emma realizes. She had thought she had made it clear that they were when she clarified outside of the restaurant what she had meant when she said they should talk. Perhaps Regina needs to be sure, needs to hear it again so she can be as open and honest about what she’s feeling as possible. Emma’s needed to be reassured numerous times about many things, and Regina is always willing to do that for, no matter how often Emma needs her to. Emma does the same, understands that sometimes a little reassurance makes a big difference.

 

“Yeah, okay,” she agrees. “I guess, essentially, we’re about to put all of our cards down on the table. We’re going to talk about our, um, relationship, and...” She sucks her lip into her mouth and pauses, aware of the reaction her word choice receives. Regina looks at her from the corner of her eye, not yet relaxed but definitely on her way there. Emma keeps going. “And we’re going to acknowledge that our, um, relationship is, well, you know...” She shakes her head, puffing out a breath. “Ugh. That wasn’t clarifying,” she says more to herself than Regina. She needs to find better words, words that flow and make sense. “Okay. Um.”

 

Before Emma can continue, Regina speaks. “Thank you.”

 

Emma’s brow furrows with confusion. “I wasn’t finished. I didn’t really clear anything up.”

 

Regina looks at her properly. “You did.”

 

“I did?” She doesn’t feel like she did.

 

Regina looks amused when she nods her head and finally softly smiles at her again. “Terminology,” she tells Emma simply. When Emma doesn’t stop looking at her like they’re speaking two different languages, Regina elaborates. “The words we choose to use are significant. Earlier, when I questioned how you would want someone to show interest in you, it was the terminology and me explaining that my word choice had been deliberate that, I’m assuming, made you realize why I had asked the question. Am I correct?”

 

Emma nods her head, goosebumps breaking out along her arms. “My word choice was deliberate as well.”

 

“Yes, I know,” Regina says softly, “and that’s why I don’t need you to continue explaining what it is we’re going to discuss. You already have.”

 

There’s a short pause before Emma speaks. “It wouldn’t be fair to simplify what’s between us. I mean, you are my best friend, and that’s not something that I’ve called many people in my life—or anybody else, actually. But you’re also a lot more than just my friend. You know what I mean? So, relationship feels more fitting than friendship. It doesn’t feel limiting to me.”

 

Regina’s looking into the fire with her lips pursed, a thoughtful expression on her face as she seems to work through Emma’s words. She brings her hands to her lap and one of her thumbs rolls over the knuckle of the other. “The number of times I thought I was ready to have this conversation...” There’s an almost laugh in her throat as she turns her head slightly to catch Emma’s attention. “I thought the only thing keeping me from trying was my fear that it might not be something you were ready to discuss. I also believed sharing particular feelings I have wouldn’t end well for me due to a lack of reciprocation and how you might react to discovering how I felt. But...” She shakes her head. “I don’t think I’ve truly been ready either.”

 

Emma wants to ask how long Regina has wanted to talk about this—them—but she doesn’t think that’s what’s important now. “We don’t have to be fully there yet,” she tells Regina instead. “I think us sitting down and saying we’re going to talk is enough. We’re ready enough. Saying some stuff might not come as easily as you might have thought it would, but I don’t think that really changes anything. We’ve had difficult conversations before.”

 

Regina nods. “Yes, many of them.”

 

Emma nods as well. “If this turns out to be one of them, we can handle it.” She reaches over and pulls Regina’s hand into her own, pleased by how easily Regina’s fingers curl around her hand. “But, you know, just because I suck with the whole talking about feelings thing and you might be a little unsure about whatever, doesn’t mean this has to be difficult. I mean, look at us. We both know what we’re going to talk about, what it means, and we’re fine. We’re basically already in the middle of it all already. Nobody’s hiding away, right? We’re good.”

 

Regina is shaking her head and smiling at Emma, looking at her with wonder in her eyes. “You really are okay right now.”

 

Emma narrows her own eyes, but she smiles as well. “I don’t have to go into crisis mode all the time, Regina. I can have a serious conversation without simultaneously having an anxiety attack.”

 

“I know you can,” Regina says seriously. “I know that.” Her eyes flicker between their hands and Emma’s face before settling on their hands, watching as a red fingernail lightly scratches pale skin. “However, honestly speaking, I was expecting a bigger reaction.”

 

“You were also expecting a negative one,” she says knowingly. Regina hums shortly. “And while I might have frozen for a moment in the restaurant, I don’t think that really counts as a negative reaction.”

 

“No?”

 

“Nope.” She shrugs. “I was processing, I think, trying to catch up. You’re always a few steps ahead of me, and today’s been...” Her breath blows out in a loud puff and her chuckle weaves its way through. “There’s been a lot of intense feelings, and I don’t think I was quite prepared for what they would all build up to.”

 

“To my question, you mean?”

 

“No,” she tells her slowly, feeling her heart beat a little harsher against her chest cavity. “Not to your question, no, but to me realizing that we’ve been on the edge of something for a long time and I wouldn’t mind maybe finding out what it’s like to actually be in that...something. I wasn’t expecting everything to feel like it was turning upside down while somehow still being okay, you know? Like, things feel different, but not in a bad way.”

 

There’s hope and longing between them, and everything Emma feels is mirrored in the eyes that are searching her own. Instead of anxiously pulling at her own fingers, Regina is playing with Emma’s, and Emma is finding it incredibly calming. She smiles down at their hands, her heart still racing even though she isn’t nervous. She’s surprised by how not nervous she is, honestly.

 

“You make me feel dizzy.”

 

Her whispered words make Regina’s fingers still. Emma looks up with a shy smile, hoping she’s doing this correctly. Regina’s not saying much, so Emma feels like she should, like there’s still something holding Regina back. She’s wanted to have this conversation for a lot longer than Emma’s been considering any of what she thinks they need to discuss, so Emma can only imagine how high Regina’s insecurities could have built up in that time. Emma understands what that’s like, and since she’s not the one feeling like she’s about to say all the wrong things, Emma decides that she’ll lead this conversation. It’s what she had been thinking about earlier in the morning, balance. More often it’s Emma who needs to pull back and Regina steps up and gives a little more, but Emma can level them out when Regina’s the one feeling unsure.

 

“Maybe I should have figured all of this out sooner. I don’t know. I guess I never really needed a name for what any of it meant, so I never tried to find one. It was just a Regina thing, you know? You make me dizzy when I’m not moving, and I get...butterflies.” Regina’s breath rushes out and so does Emma’s, her voice still no higher than a whisper. “It sounds so cliché when I say it out loud, which only makes me feel more like this should have been obvious to me even though it hasn’t been. I just—I don’t think I’ve ever connected these feelings with attraction because, well, it’s never really been like this with anyone before. I mean it when I said it’s a you thing, and any other way of looking at it just made less sense in my head.”

 

“Never?” Regina asks, and her voice is soft and quiet like they had silently agreed to only whisper as they spoke. “What about—?”

 

Emma doesn’t let her ask the rest of her question because it doesn’t matter who she names. “Nope. It’s different with you. I’ve never started out at this stage. Usually, the beginning stage of my relationships with men is... Well. I don’t know, really. It’s more clingy—on both our parts,” she admits with only mild discomfort, having briefly spoken about this before with Regina. “By the time I’ve decided that, yeah, I might like this person, it’s usually because they’ve either been pushing me towards them or they were conveniently there when I needed to feel wanted. If it didn’t go that way, it was always more of a casual thing that was more about scratching an itch than the person, if you know what I mean.”

 

Her cheeks feel hot, but Regina’s not looking at her with judging eyes. She is as she always is during these kinds of talks, carefully listening so she doesn’t miss anything, watching Emma closely. She gives Emma all of her attention, like there couldn’t be anything more important than the words that leave her mouth. Emma doesn’t think anybody has ever listened to her the way Regina does, never valued each word and confession the way Regina seems to. Regina takes what Emma says like it’s a gift no matter what it is they’re talking about, like maybe nobody has entrusted Regina with as much as Emma has in recent years and she wants to make sure Emma never believes she’s trusted the wrong person. Emma appreciates that and knows that there’s nobody she would trust more than Regina.

 

Her throat clears. “You know, I don’t think I’ve been oblivious to what’s been developing between us,” she says before pulling her cheek between her teeth to nibble on it while she gathers her words. She’s been thinking about this since their walk back to the lodge. She wants to make sure she gets all of her thoughts out so Regina can understand them. “I think I’ve just accepted that whatever happens between us was okay as long as you didn’t think it was too much. I didn’t care about social norms, or what anyone else would think, or the fact that you’re a woman. None of that mattered. If you were comfortable with the things I wanted, and vice versa, it felt like that was enough. You know? It never really felt like crossing a line I shouldn’t cross. It only ever did when I was worried about how you would react to stuff.

 

“You let me be me when I’m with you, and... I know I don’t say it enough, but I really appreciate that. I really appreciate you. And, I also really like what we have. It works, and it makes sense. And, yeah, I am definitely open to more. I constantly find myself wanting, even when I don’t know how much more I want. I guess I’m kinda greedy for that, but...” She shrugs. “None of this is news to me. I think the only thing that really made me pause was realizing that you want more as well—and maybe what more entailed for you was a bit of a surprise.”

 

“You’ve yet to hear what I want,” Regina reminds her.

 

“Well, okay, you’re right about that. But, but I do know that you at least wanna hit on me.” She grins, proud of herself when Regina smirks and seems to relax into the cushion her side is pressed into. “And you checked me out earlier, like major checking out, not just a subtle once-over.”

 

“Did I?” she asks as though she has no idea what Emma’s talking about, but there’s a sparkle in her eyes as she briefly lets them pass over Emma’s body. She hums in her throat while licking her lips, and the flash of desire that crosses her face when she blinks slowly and looks back into Emma’s eyes is completely unveiled.

 

Emma’s stomach swoops and her eyes close while she takes a deep breath. “You know you did, and I don’t think it was the first time.”

 

Regina only hums again. Emma can feel Regina’s weight shifting on the sofa and opens her eyes. She’s moving closer, unfolding her legs and taking up residence beside Emma. Their hands, which have yet to be disconnected since Emma first reached over for Regina’s, are placed on Regina’s lap, the brunette’s feet falling to the floor in front of her, Emma’s knees pressing into the side of her thigh.

 

Warm brown eyes lift to meet hers. Regina raises her free hand to Emma’s face, fingers barely grazing skin as they tremble slightly before hiding inside Emma’s curly hair and gently stroking. When Emma’s lashes flutter and her eyelids start to feel heavy, Regina lets out a soft puff of heated air and smiles so lovingly that it causes Emma’s heart to constrict almost painfully. Emma sucks in a loud breath and peeks out her tongue, runs it over her lower lip before pulling that same lip into her mouth so she has something to sink her teeth into, fighting her instinct to close her eyes and bask in the glorious sensations that feel almost magical. Regina lightly scratches her scalp and twists a few curls between her fingertips, seeming to be lost in her own actions until her eyes dart over to Emma’s and she smiles, the corners of her mouth lifting slowly, shyly, the most tender look in her eyes as a thumb traces the shell of Emma’s ear.

 

“What I want is simple,” Regina says after a long stretch of silence paired with lingering looks that still have Emma’s stomach feeling fluttery when Regina speaks. Her voice is thick and low, heavy—intimate. She tucks Emma’s hair behind her ear and then lets her hand fall, smiling lightly.

 

Emma doesn’t want to seem too eager to give Regina whatever it is she might want, doesn’t want her desire to satisfy Regina to be misinterpreted as Emma blindly doing what someone wants so they continue to show interest in her. She can tell the difference between wanting to please because she enjoys making the person who brings happiness into her life happy and devoting herself to giving into what someone else wants simply because she doesn’t want them to leave her. It all comes down to how the other person involved makes her feel, and Regina makes her feel like an equal. Regina makes her feel cared for, wanted, and there’s a lack of possession to her love. Possession had always been at the root of her relationships with those who wanted to tie her down, an idea that Emma belonged to them instead of her being her own person who wanted to be with them. Regina is careful and cautious, and even though Emma doesn’t think it’s necessary sometimes, she can admit that knowing Regina worries about how her actions will affect Emma makes a difference.

 

She encourages Regina to continue by squeezing her hand and asking, “What do you want?”

 

“Mostly, what I want all boils down to intent.”

 

Emma’s brow furrows slightly. “Intent?” she repeats with confusion, not sure she understands.

 

Regina’s throat clearing is the only sound for a moment. She looks down to their hands and gently strokes the back of Emma’s with her thumb while releasing a long breath. “Yes,” she says, sounding confident with that one word. “You said you’ve not been unaware of what’s been developing between us. I believe that to a certain degree. We’ve been through a lot that has brought us closer to each other. You not noticing that would be unlikely. How close we’ve become isn’t what I feel you might have been unaware of, but what it means to me is.”

 

Emma thinks about it. She understands what Regina means, knows that she had frequently just accepted what happened between them as things that happened and didn’t consider what they might have meant. Now that she knows that Regina likes her, is attracted to her, she can see how some things were never really as simple as she thought they were. Every touch, every lingering look, they hold more meaning when she adds Regina’s feelings for her to the equation.

 

She thinks back to holding Regina in her arms in bed and how Emma had simplified it to a need to be close. While, yes, that is exactly what it had been for Emma, she now sees how the entire morning could have been about more than that for Regina. She had been given a taste of something she wants just as Emma had, but before finding out that Emma wants more moments like that, it’s possible Emma holding her had felt more like having something she really wanted but knew she wouldn’t have again. There’s pain in wanting what you can’t have, but Emma knows from experience that it hurts even more when you’re given a small amount of it and then even that little bit is taken away from you. Regina had said she hadn’t thought she would let Emma hold her despite wanting it, and now Emma understands why.

 

“So, intent,” Emma says, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

 

Regina’s head moves in a quick nod. “Intent is what changes our relationship from one that has the appearance of a romantic one to one that is deliberately romantic.” She looks away from Emma and her breath shakes, her confidence faltering as she squeezes Emma’s hand tightly. “I don’t need more from you physically or emotionally—that is not to say there isn’t more I would enjoy—but I do need the intention of your actions to be clear. If...” She swallows audibly, flicking her eyes up to glance at Emma briefly. “If you also wanted to change the dynamic of our relationship, then it wouldn’t be a matter of adding more to it. It would simply require that our intentions are clear, that we agree that whatever we should decide to let happen between us is something being shared between two people who consider the relationship they’re in to be one that is more than a friendship. We’d have to...” She huffs out a shuddering breath and stops mid-sentence, sounding tired as she sighs.

 

Emma can feel Regina’s nerves rushing inside of her as though they are her own. Her stomach feels heavy and uncomfortable, her skin prickly. She reaches over and pulls back the curtain of dark hair that’s fallen to shield Regina’s face. She brushes it behind an ear and nearly shivers when Regina’s eyes flutter close and she bites her bottom lip.

 

“I can do that,” she tells Regina with certainty that doesn’t waver. “Awareness and intent, right? So, like, if we were to snuggle again like this morning, basically what you’re saying is that you’d want it to be clear that it means something.”

 

“That it means more than it would if we were only friends. Platonic cuddling and cuddling with someone you have romantic feelings for doesn’t feel the same. I don’t want to respond in a way that would be considered inappropriate or unwanted in a strictly platonic environment if you holding me isn’t something you view as a romantic gesture.”

 

Emma nods before verbally responding since Regina still isn’t looking at her. “I want you to respond naturally. I don’t want you to hide how things make you feel, and I don’t want to hide anything from you.”

 

The corner of Regina’s mouth lifts slightly. “That is what I want as well. I still feel as though I need to ask if you want to change our relationship, though, Emma?” Emma starts to answer, but Regina cuts her off, shaking her head. “And I don’t mean because it’s what I want. If you were currently unaware that I want to be romantically involved with you, would that elusive more that you want include romance?”

 

Her answer doesn’t come easily, but she doesn’t think Regina wants a rushed answer. She wants Emma to think about it, and so Emma does. She doesn’t know how to shove everything she feels for Regina into neat categories with labels, never really has. She also doesn’t know how to make a concise list of everything new she would want to share with Regina, doesn’t want to limit her possibilities or overlook something she might enjoy one day but isn’t currently considering. She questions, as she allows her mind to wander and she explores all the possible roads they could go down together, what really makes any of it romantic? Regina says intent, and she agrees with that. She can see how her intent is what changes what her actions mean, but even that sounds too simple.

 

“Okay,” she says aloud because talking to Regina is a lot easier than trying to make sense of everything on her own. “I think, yes, I would say that what I want with you, maybe what I already have with you, fits under that category. Like... I mean...” She exhales a loud puff full of frustration and annoyance. She wonders when it all became so damn complicated.

 

Regina raises her brow. “Do you need another moment?”

 

Emma shakes her head from left to right. “No, just patience.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Emma smiles and looks down at their hands as she speaks, fingertips against fingertips, palms against palms, Regina mindlessly playing with Emma’s hand as she waits. “What we have means more than any type of relationship has ever meant to me. Every label feels inadequate somehow, like I’m taking away from the importance of it all by simplifying it. But if you’re asking me if I’m romantically attracted to you, if I want to do the whole couple thing... Then, yeah, I am, and I do.

 

“I think, and this is where things get messy in my head... It’s not simple, attraction, not for me. It’s never been simple. I don’t know. You get this idea from movies or books of what it feels like to be in love and, like, it’s just never been that way for me. This—” Emma gestures between the two of them with her free hand, “—what we have, and what I feel when I’m with you, or because of you, this is the closest I’ve ever been to experiencing things that way. And even now, honestly, it’s not the same. It’s... It’s...”

 

She doesn’t realize she’s breathing heavier than normal until Regina is whispering, “Just breathe for a moment.”

 

Her heart is pounding and it feels like it’s suddenly too hot in the room. She’s annoyed with herself for her reaction, hates how confused she feels about things that she thinks should be simple. Her thoughts are rushing inside her head, moving faster than she can speak. “I’m sorry,” she says, taking her hand from Regina’s so she can pull her hair away from her neck and twist it into a quick, messy bun that she secures with the elastic that had been around her wrist. “I’m making this more complicated than it needs to be, and I’m—”

 

Regina shushes her with kind eyes, shaking her head while she stills Emma’s with her hands on Emma’s cheeks. “Don’t apologize to me for trying to make sense of what you’re feeling. Please, don’t feel like you need to do that with me—or anyone.” Her fingers gently stroke over Emma’s hair and down to her temples, following the line of her jaw. She holds Emma’s eyes until Emma breathes out a rough breath and nods, and then she smiles warmly. “I appreciate that you’re trying, that you want to talk about how you feel. I really do. But, if you’re not ready—”

 

“No, I am,” she insists, knowing Regina would give her time and space without hesitation even though she’s been wanting to have this conversation with her. “I want to, you know, get everything out there on the table.”

 

“Well.” Regina sweeps her hand in front of herself and over the coffee table. “Whenever you’re ready, there’s your table.”

 

Emma doesn’t know how she ended up having someone in her life that’s as understanding as Regina is, someone who knows when to push and when to just let her move at her own pace. It’s a blessing, something not to be taken for granted. She’s lucky, and she knows it, even if Regina would probably roll her eyes and dismiss the very idea of Emma having Regina in her life meaning she’s lucky. Emma knows she is, though, and that is enough.

 

She unfolds her legs and moves around on the sofa, uncomfortable until she stretches them out across Regina’s lap. Regina doesn’t comment on it, simply rests her hands on top of Emma’s legs and lets out a content sigh. She leans her head back against the sofa and looks at Emma, all soft curves and warm eyes with the tiny crevices pinching at the edges.

 

“You’re beautiful,” Emma whispers, doesn’t make the words sound too heavy or like she’s expecting a response. She just needs to say it, needs Regina to hear it. As much time as she spends looking at Regina, admiring her, she doesn’t think she’s ever actually said the words out loud.

 

Regina looks more surprised than Emma had expected she would, her eyes widening briefly, but then she smiles in that way that’s like sunrises making everything brighten. She reaches over and caresses Emma’s cheek with the back of her fingers and sighs softly again, still smiling when she moves her hand away.

 

Emma lets the warmth of her touch be all she focuses on for a moment, and then she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she exhales, the words start to quickly tumble out of her mouth. “With how confusing relationships and attraction feel to me at times, we could spend all night with me trying to make sense of everything. I don’t want to do that, though. What matters makes enough sense, and everything else just feels like stuff that I can worry about if it ever becomes important. You get what I’m saying?”

 

Regina nods after seeming to let what Emma’s said sink in. “Let’s focus on what matters. I’m going to need you to tell me what that is, but—”

 

“You,” Emma says confidently, lips forming a small smile when Regina’s mouth hangs open and she doesn’t speak, just looks at Emma. “I know what I want with you, and it’s simple. Well, kinda.”

 

Regina closes her mouth and swallows, blinking slowly. “Tell me.”

 

“Well, the way I see it, what would make the most sense is for us to just continue with the way things are.” Her words don’t even have the chance to fully leave her mouth before Regina’s trying to hide her frown. Emma quickly continues. “Now that we’ve said in definite words that, yeah, we want to be together, like, really together, the intent is already there. I think, when it comes down to it, what makes this more than a friendship is really just saying that it’s more. What we want and say is what matters. I don’t wanna sit here and make a list of everything I want, though. I mean, you’d probably fall asleep just waiting for me to figure all of that out. I know enough already.

 

“I want to continue trying to make you happy, and I want to be free to express how I feel about you without thinking too much about what I say because I’m worried how you’ll react. I want you to be able to talk to me about how you’re feeling. I don’t want you to feel like you need to be worried either. If you want to touch me, then touch me. If you want to, I don’t know, say things you wouldn’t say to anyone else, then do that. That’s it. I just want us to be an us.

 

“In the restaurant, you asked how I would want someone to show interest in me, and, well, I knew without needing to think about it that I simply didn’t want someone to show me that they liked me. But you? I wouldn’t care how, just show me, because I’m interested in you, too.”

 

Regina does this thing when she gets overwhelmed by what she’s experiencing inside her heart sometimes, this thing where she just openly stares at Emma and it’s like she can’t find the words that match up with the rush of emotions that races through her. It’s as though she’s feeling too much, and Emma understands what that’s like because she feels it too. She swears the world stops spinning after she stops speaking, but everything else speeds up. She bites her bottom lip and finds herself unable to look away from Regina because her eyes are impossibly warm, everything she’s feeling swirling in the dark pools of emotions that Emma would gladly drown in if that were possible. There’s so very much there: hope, relief, wanting, and enough unadulterated happiness to make Emma breathless simply because she can’t believe she’s the one responsible for the look in Regina’s eyes.

 

Regina’s head starts shaking from side to side. Her hands scramble in their blind search to find Emma’s, fingers grabbing until they’re safely captured and intertwined with Emma’s fingers. “You...” She breathes the word out. It’s shaky and full of an unbelievable amount of disbelief for it to be only one word. Regina sucks in a loud breath, and then another when Emma squeezes her hands and smiles the biggest, brightest smile she can. Regina’s head shakes again, but this time she’s laughing quietly—and then loudly, like the laugh can’t be contained, the sound rushing out of Regina and wrapping around Emma, tickling her skin and making the blonde’s heart race.

 

If this is what processing is like for Regina, Emma thinks she likes it. She loves the way her laughter sounds, even when there’s a hint of caution in her eyes as she gazes into Emma’s. She loves the way it feels like Regina is letting go of something heavy that had been inside of her for way too long. It sounds the way coming up from water after holding your breath feels, and Emma doesn’t think there’s anything more rewarding than finally being able to breathe.

 

Regina lifts one of her hands and combs her fingers through her hair, moving it away from her face as her laughter slowly quiets to a low hum that vibrates in the air before disappearing completely. It still lingers in Regina’s eyes, in her fine laugh lines, in the mesmerizing curve of her smile. "Hmm," she hums as she strokes Emma's legs, smiling down at them. "You think you're prepared for whatever reaction you'll receive once you finally accept that what you want might not be something you can have. But when you discover that the time spent wasted on holding on to a fear of rejection was for naught..." She hums again, her smile stretching widely across her face as she turns her head slowly to look at Emma. "I don't think I allowed myself to truly consider the possibility that you might want the very things I believed I needed to learn to accept I couldn't have. Hearing that you do... That was honestly a little overwhelming."

 

"Yeah, well, I owed you one for knocking me off balance several times today," Emma says with a tiny grin, gently bumping her knee against Regina's stomach. She feels a little giddy, everything rushing inside her head. "So, this is really happening."

 

Regina smirks in response to Emma's growing smile. "Yes, _this_ is really happening."

 

"You and me, together, like, really together." It feels so surreal. Before they started this conversation, she had been thinking about how everything felt right and made sense with Regina, how Regina was continuously the exception when Emma felt like she needed to push everybody away, how she somehow found the embodiment of safety when she had gone a lifetime never truly knowing what safety felt like. And now, here they are, no longer at the edge of that nameless something that Emma had known meant everything to her despite its lack a proper title. Now they're completely submerged in it, and Emma is a little amazed by everything that's brought them to where they currently are. "Wow."

 

Regina laughs in her throat, amusement dancing in her eyes like stars in a pitch black sky. "Wow," she mimics with one of the brightest smiles Emma's ever seen.

 

Emma covers Regina's hands with her own, pulling them from her legs as she stands up from the sofa. She brings Regina with her, the mere closeness of their bodies when they stand causing a rush of air to push through the small space between her lips. She hums in her throat, a long one that is full of delight and satisfying contentment. Regina bites the corner of her mouth and looks down to where their hands are locked together, the only thing keeping them from being pressed against the other, a contemplative look appearing for a brief moment. Emma lowers her eyes to see what Regina sees and is suddenly brimming with a mighty need to be closer, so much closer. It's something she can have now without the doubts and questioning if Regina shares her desire to be close—and there's nothing stopping her from having Regina impossibly close to her right this moment.

 

She swallows audibly and licks her lips, letting go of one of Regina's hands, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb. "So..." She turns her head so she's facing the bedroom and raises her brow. "Now that all of that's sorted out..."

 

Regina looks from the bedroom to Emma. There's a small moment where something uncertain crosses her face, but then she's moving so she's pressed against Emma and her breath is warm on the blonde's cheek. "Now that that's sorted out," she repeats just as slowly, her voice low but heavy, "how about you take me to bed, Emma?"

 

Emma feels Regina's words before she hears and processes them, like a dark ribbon gliding across her skin, making goosebumps appear and heat race through her veins. Regina's husky voice is like fire that can burn but also the most tender caress. She has to lick her lips again just to give herself a moment to think of a response that's more than the involuntary shiver that moves through her body at the suggestion that could be hidden beneath those words. Her neck and cheeks flush with warmth, and there's no doubt in her mind that she's visibly blushing. She bets Regina just loves that—she always has.

 

Regina's smirk turns into a soft smile when Emma doesn't find any words to say. She leans her head forward and presses her forehead against Emma's temple and exhales. "Or we can stand here all night if you'd prefer holding me here," she whispers, a touch of amusement in her tone.

 

She chuckles quietly, mentally shaking her head clear. "Honestly," she whispers back, putting her second hand on the small of Regina's back, "as long as I get to feel you, I don't care where we are."

 

The brunette's breath tumbles out in a rush when Emma slides her hand over to Regina's hip and pulls her closer. “Oh,” she breathes out shakily.

 

She lowers her head to Emma's shoulder and hums, turning so they're chest to chest, thighs brushing against those of the other woman as they hold each other tighter and take a few steps that make them sway like flowers caught in the wind. Regina buries her head in the crook of Emma's neck and only lets go of Emma's hand so she can guide it to her waist. When Emma has both hands gliding over Regina's petite frame, softly touching her through the silky sleep shirt she's wearing, there's only the sound of them both sighing as they lose themselves in the quiet moment together.

 

Emma's heart doesn't race. She is at peace like this, holding Regina in her arms, feeling the brunette's every breath against her skin. It feels like nothing else she's ever known, getting to hold Regina without needing a reason beyond simply wanting her near, wanting to make Regina feel the same warm feeling of safety that Regina has been filling Emma with for so long. It's even better than the morning had been. Standing there in the small living room, Regina holds her back tightly, doesn't hesitate to let her body fall into Emma's. There's no amount of uncertainty to be felt, no moment of indecision before Regina gives in to what she wants. She just allows herself to be held in Emma's strong arms and sighs with unveiled pleasure and contempt whenever Emma squeezes and pulls her a little closer.

 

Time seems immeasurable as they embrace, but they eventually find themselves in the bedroom, with the bed, the bed they're going to share, again. But this time they're sharing it as more than two friends on vacation together. Even though nothing has really changed, it feels as though _everything_ has changed. And maybe that's why Emma doesn't get in after the sheets are pulled back, even though Regina already has her knee brought up and is about to slip underneath the covers.

 

"We're doing this all out of order," she says exasperatedly, blinking several times before looking up to meet Regina's eyes. "We're already sleeping together, and not even in the sexy sleeping together way. We're actually sleeping. We made the bed together this morning, and now we're just calmly removing pillows and about to sleep together."

 

Regina's expression is thankfully one of amusement and not worry that Emma's about to lose her mind. "We were about to do that, yes, but then..." She gestures to Emma with a sweep of her hand. "I'm assuming part of your brain has finally caught up with the rest of you and needs its own moment to process everything."

 

Emma rolls her eyes and plops down on the bed, bouning a little, falling back with her head on the pillows that haven't been removed. She turns  her head to face Regina, who is still standing on her side, watching Emma. "Could we be any more unconventional?"

 

"You live in a town inhabited by what you grew up believing were fictional characters. _This_ is what's unconventional to you, sleeping?"

 

"Well, when you put it like that..."

 

Regina shakes her head and motions for Emma to scoot over. "The day our lives are anything remotely close to conventional, that's when you know something is wrong."

 

Emma gives Regina a lopsided smile as she settles on her back, one arm bent at the elbow and tucked underneath her head. "Still, you should have at least taken me out on a date before getting me in bed."

 

Regina props herself up on her arm, laying on her side. Her head tilts slightly as she looks at Emma. "A date? Do you mean like dinner together? Or, perhaps going out for drinks and spending the entire night completely lost in each other despite the various other people who might attempt to get our attention? Or, maybe something cozier, like movie nights where I cook dinner for you before you sit through a movie you claim to dislike despite how obviously untrue that is? Or—”

 

"Okay, okay. I get it. We've had dates, many dates, probably more than I've had with people I was actually dating. I get it."

 

Regina smirks with satisfaction and lets her body slowly move into Emma's, her leg slipping between the blonde's and her hand resting on Emma's stomach. Her fingers make lazy circles through the cotton as she speaks, causing heat to spiral beneath her touch. "Indeed, we have. However, I know that isn't what you meant. Like I said, there was a lack of intention before. Same actions, different meaning if neither of us believes that what we're doing is dating."

 

Emma almost forgets to verbally respond because she's so focused on Regina touching her. But she flicks her eyes away from the hand on her stomach and to the eyes that are tracing the lines of her face. She smiles softly when she notices the way Regina is looking at her, taking her in, everything about the moment feeling wonderfully normal, like they lie in bed like this together all the time and it's just another night. Emma wants this all the time, wants them to freely enjoy each other in whichever ways please them.

 

"I'm going to risk sounding like I'm after something conventional by telling you that I wanna take you out. I wanna do the dating thing with you, a real date, no mistaking it for just another thing we do."

 

Regina shifts in the bed so that she can lay her head on Emma's chest—which makes Emma's heart start to race. She can feel it pounding like a drum, so she knows Regina can feel it beneath her head. Regina closes her eyes, and it's like she's listening to the quick beats and they're whispering things to her that only she can understand. The look on her face is the most serene thing Emma's ever seen, and she only wishes she could reach her phone and capture it in a picture. Instead, she brings her hand to Regina's face and brushes her thumb over the corner of Regina's mouth, smiling when the facial muscles beneath her jump and Regina's smile grows.

 

Turning her head ever so slightly, Regina, without opening her eyes, let's her lips softly move across the pad of Emma's thumb. It's only after Emma gasps quietly that Regina's eyes open and they find Emma's. "Pick your time and place. I'll be there," she whispers.

 

Emma feels a little dizzy from the feeling of Regina's lips on her finger. She can still feel the warmth of her mouth. Even from that tiny touch, she knows Regina's lips are incredibly soft and gentle. It had been the briefest kiss, and just on her thumb, and yet it was enough to make Emma completely speechless, almost breathless.

 

So Emma only nods, grinning too widely and unable to breathe properly. Apparently, it's enough for Regina. She lays her head back down without saying another word, her eyelids falling shut as she hums and guides Emma's hand to her hair, another hum forming in her throat when Emma starts gently running her fingers through it.

 

And everything feels right, like the best kind of safety.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... That was not what I was expecting when I planned this out in my head. I'm going to stop doing that because I almost never write things the way I plan them. 
> 
> I feel like I left something out in this chapter, but I don't know what, and Kez gave it her stamp of approval, so hopefully it's just me wanting to cover more than is actually necessary for things to make sense. 
> 
> I'm probably three chapters behind in replying to comments, but I hope to make a nice dent in those this week. But just a quick thank you to everybody who leaves a comment. I see them. I read them. And most likely I get emotional over them. So, yeah, thanks so much for those. It makes the process more rewarding.


End file.
